


The Secret Ingredient

by the_communist_unicorn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are Twins (Supernatural), Chef Castiel (Supernatural), Chef Dean Winchester, Dead Jimmy Novak (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Says "I Love You", Dean Winchester Wears Panties, Family, Food, Frottage, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kid Fic, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Openly Gay Dean Winchester, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panty Kink, Romance, Sign Language, Switching, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 52,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_communist_unicorn/pseuds/the_communist_unicorn
Summary: Castiel Novak is the head chef of a five star New York restaurant, commanding the respect and admiration of fellow cooks and food critics alike, but his orderly life is turned upside down when he adopts his orphaned niece Claire and must suddenly learn the mysterious art of "kid food". Fortunately his new sous chef Dean is happy to teach him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 344
Kudos: 382
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In the beginning the plot was shamelessly stolen from a Catherine Zeta Jones movie called "No Reservations", but then Dean and Cas kind of hijacked my story and took it for a joyride, so even if you've seen the movie, you're still in for a few surprises. 
> 
> Also, this is a bit of a slower burn than my other stories. Be patient with me while I convince these two stubborn men that they really want to rip each other's clothes off. Watch for rating changes and tag additions, and if you need spoilers not included in the tags before you feel comfortable reading, you can find me on Facebook (Koby Kuznetz) or Tumblr (the-communist-unicorn).

Castiel often wished that there was a recipe for life with step by step instructions telling you exactly what to do to achieve the desired results. In the kitchen he was master, his every move confident and assured. Out in the real world it was a different story.  
  
"Castiel, the McLeods are here. They want to tell you how brilliant you are in person." 

He grimaced and did not look up from the creme brulee he was finishing. If even one spot got burnt instead of lightly caramelized, he would have to toss it and start over, and if the customer complained about slow service, Naomi would reprimand the entire kitchen staff regardless of the fact that it was her fault for distracting him. "Tell them thank you but brilliant chefs belong in the kitchen." 

"Oh, just say hello. It won't kill you. You know they're my best customers." Naomi's tone was still perfectly pleasant but Castiel recognized an order when he heard one. 

"All right. In a minute," he grudgingly conceded. 

But no sooner was the creme brulee finished and delivered, then Alfie the dishwasher bumped into one of the waiters, and a lobster destined for table two ended up on the kitchen floor. The boy apologized so profusely and frantically that Castiel didn't have the heart to get mad and just told him to clean up the mess and be more careful in the future, but a fresh lobster had to be prepared of course which held up several other orders, and then table nine ordered the quail. Apart from himself, his sous chef Anna was the only member of his staff Castiel trusted to cook the delicate bird without ruining it, and she was currently in the bathroom for what seemed like the twentieth time that night. He couldn't really be annoyed with her either. Only a complete asshole would resent an eight months pregnant woman for needing to pee, and Castiel was really a very nice person if a bit of a perfectionist.  
  
Finally Anna returned and, with an apologetic smile, took over the quail while he hurried (but not too much) to catch the McLeods before they left. They might be Naomi's best customers, but they were Castiel's least favorite. Fergus McLeod owned a very exclusive investment firm, and his wife Rowena was a retired prima ballerina who gave dance lessons to the rich and famous. They came to _Paradis_ at least once a week, and they both flirted with Castiel, often at the same time like some kind of pervy competition.  
  
"Fergus sings your praises constantly," Mrs. McLeod said, laying her perfectly manicured hand on Castiel's arm and gazing coyly up at him through spiky, mascara coated lashes. "Honestly it's difficult not to get jealous. I think he'd rather eat your food than make love to me."  
  
"Darling, don't make the man blush," her husband said while his eyes raked over Castiel from head to toe, his smile predatory. "If you ever get tired of the hustle and bustle of the restaurant business, Castiel, we'd love you to come work for us. It's so hard to find a good live in chef these days. Unless you don't mind eating Mexican every night."  
  
"I'm very happy in my current employment," Castiel said, doing his best to keep his tone light even as he inwardly cringed. "But it's always a pleasure to cook for you both. I'll see you next week." Hoping that politeness and Naomi had been satisfied, he extricated himself and headed back to the safety of the kitchen as quickly as the crowded dining room allowed.  
  
Unfortunately, before he was halfway there, he heard the magic words that never failed to get his back up. "… not properly cooked."  
  
He stopped beside the table. "What seems to be the problem?" 

"Castiel, let me handle this," Naomi said warningly, but it was too late. 

The man who had been complaining looked at Castiel, took in his white coat, and in a feat of brilliant deduction said, "Ah. You must be the chef."  
  
"I am." 

"My wife's foie gras is underdone." 

His wife looked humiliated. Castiel suspected she was the kind of person who, left to herself, wouldn't complain even if the foie gras was raw. 

Ever on the side of customer satisfaction, Naomi said, "Let me get you a new appetizer, sir. On the house." 

But Castiel was already in a bad mood after dealing with the McLeods. And the guy was being a jerk, embarrassing his wife over a silly matter of principle. And on top of all that, there was nothing wrong with the damn foie gras. It was supposed to have a touch of pink. Everyone who knew anything about French cuisine knew that.

"Excuse me," Castiel said, snatching the plate from Naomi and inspecting it critically. "There's nothing wrong with this. It's precisely comme il faut." 

The man turned red. Obviously he did not speak French and was either too angry or too embarrassed (likely both) to ask for a translation. He threw down his napkin like it was a gauntlet and said, "That's it. We'll take our business elsewhere." 

"May I suggest the hot dog stand on the corner," Castiel said dryly. 

Naomi gave him a glare that would have incinerated a lesser man, but she didn't want to cause any more of a scene than they already had, so she followed him back to the kitchen before starting in on him. "How many times, Castiel? You cannot throw a tantrum every time someone doesn't like your food. He's the customer, so if he says the foie gras isn't done, it's not done. End of story." 

"Oh, please," Castiel scoffed. "The man wouldn't know properly cooked foie gras if I shoved it down his throat, which you may have noticed I did not do. I think I deserve some credit for that. And the only reason I was there in the first place was that _you_ insisted I talk to Mr. and Mrs. Stalker. Just let me stick to the food, you deal with the people, and everyone will get along just fine." 

Naomi opened her mouth, presumably to continue arguing. In eight years she had never let him have the last word, but she was interrupted by Gabe the head waiter calling across the kitchen, "Phone for you, chef." 

Normally Castiel would have told him to take a message. He never took calls, personal or otherwise, while he was working. But his focus was already thoroughly broken, and he wanted to get away from Naomi (he had an uncomfortable suspicion that she wasn't entirely in the wrong here), so he called back, "I'm coming." 

Very few people even had his work number, but the voice on the other end of the call was a stranger's. "Is this Castiel Novak?" 

"Yes. Who is this?" 

"Deputy Connelly of the Pontiac Sheriff's Department. I'm sorry to bother you at work, Mr. Novak, but I'm afraid I have some bad news. Your brother James was in a car accident earlier this evening. He … He didn't survive. I'm very sorry."  
  
The bottom dropped out of Castiel's stomach. A buzzing like angry bees filled his ears, drowning out the familiar racket of the kitchen. The deputy was still talking, but the words made no sense until one thing registered. 

"… daughter was in the car too, but she was lucky. Only scrapes and bruises. The hospital wants to keep her overnight just to be sure." 

"And after that?" His own voice sounded strange to him. 

"Well, she'll probably be placed in a temporary foster home until you can make arrangements." 

"No." Intellectually he knew there were such things as good foster homes where children were safe and even loved, but … "No. I'll fly out there tonight. Please tell the hospital that I'll be there in the morning, and they are not to discharge her into anyone's custody but mine." He had the right to demand that. He was her legal guardian now. Jimmy had given him the papers to sign a week after Claire was born, assuring that she would never be at risk of the kind of childhood they'd had.  
  
The deputy agreed and sounded glad that Castiel was taking such an immediate interest in his niece's wellbeing. Castiel thanked him by rote and hung up the phone. Then he just stood there, staring at his blurred reflection in a gleaming copper stockpot. 

A gentle hand touched his arm, and he turned to look at Anna. She was a little blurry too, and he quickly wiped his eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked. 

He opened his mouth but found himself unable to actually say the words, _My brother is dead_. Instead he said, "I'm going to need a few days off. F-family emergency. Will you …" He hated to ask her to fight his battles. He already demanded too much of her.  
  
"I'll deal with Naomi," she said without waiting for him to ask. 

"Thank you." He smiled weakly. "Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?" 

"No, but I know." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, her enormous belly bumping his hip. "Go home, chef. I'll keep things running until you get back." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comme il faut is French for "as it should be". In French cuisine the phrase is used to mean that a dish has been prepared in the traditional manner with no variations. 
> 
> Paradis (no, I didn't forget the e) is French for heaven. It seemed an appropriate name for a French restaurant staffed by angels. 
> 
> And yes, Crowley and Rowena are a couple in this story. You can't tell me they don't have a bit of a Hamlet thing going on in the show, and this is an AU where they're not related in any way, so it's not weird. I stand by that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned is by Jethro Tull.

A week later — the most exhausting week of his life — Castiel arrived back in New York with a sad and silent nine year old in tow. The doctor had assured him that there was nothing physically wrong with Claire. _It's a very common response to emotional trauma in children. She'll talk again when she's ready._ So Castiel was doing his best not to push, but it made it very difficult to bond with her when anything other than simple yes or no questions got only a blank look in reply. He hadn't seen her in almost a year. Even without the trauma of losing her father, she would be a different person now with different interests and probably a new favorite color. 

He'd been afraid that she would take one look at him and think her father had come back to life, but he needn't have worried. She'd always been able to tell them apart, even when she was a baby. 

She cheered up a little when the boxes containing her toys arrived by FedEx in the late afternoon. Castiel left her to arrange her room (formerly his guest room although it hadn't been used often) while he made dinner. He didn't have much in the way of fresh ingredients. He should take Claire with him to Chelsea Market tomorrow. She might enjoy that. But for tonight …

He was about to give up and order takeout when he spotted some rather sad looking leeks in the bottom of the crisper and inspiration struck. The potatoes and garlic were still good. He dug a quart of homemade chicken stock out of the freezer and opened a can of evaporated milk since the cream was way past its prime. An hour later he had a pot of fragrant vichyssoise, and he decided to break with tradition just this once and serve it hot. He was too hungry to wait for it to chill properly, and a bowl of warm soup sounded like just the thing for Claire's first meal in her new home. 

He was feeling quite proud of himself as he dished out the food. His first week of parenting had involved a lot of pizza and fries, and he'd been uncomfortably reminded of the meals his mother used to put on the table when she happened to remember that she had two children who needed to eat. But there was just so much to do, the funeral to arrange and the house to pack up and put on the market, so he'd promised himself that as soon as he was back on familiar ground, he would do better. And he had. Their first day back he had produced a wholesome, filling dinner practically out of thin air.  
  
Claire peered suspiciously at the white goop in her bowl. 

"It's potato soup," Castiel said, deciding that the proper French name would probably scare her off. 

She picked up her spoon and swirled it around a few times. Then she gave him a look that said quite clearly without words, _Do I have to?_

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, ignoring his wounded pride. 

She shook her head. 

"Would you rather just play until bedtime?" 

She nodded. 

"Okay. Let me know if you change your mind." 

He ate his dinner alone. It didn't taste quite as good as it had smelled.

~o0o~

He went back to work on Thursday night. Getting a babysitter who could stay past midnight was quite a challenge, but he finally found a temp agency who sent him a college student named Josie. 

When he walked into the kitchen, he had to stop a moment and make sure he was in the right restaurant. Yes, there was Anna and Gabe and all the other familiar faces. No one had noticed him standing by the door yet. There was music playing, an electric guitar incongruously accompanied by a trilling flute that wouldn't have sounded out of place in a classical orchestra, and a man's voice singing something about being too old to rock and roll but too young to die. Some of the kitchen staff were singing along, others were just grinning and laughing, and in the middle of it all a man in a white chef's coat was serenading Anna's pregnant belly while Anna — efficient, no nonsense Anna — giggled like a little girl. 

"What is going on here?" Castiel's voice cut through the noise like a sharp knife through tender meat. Everyone turned to look at him. The music played on, seeming louder in the sudden silence. At least his staff had the grace to look guilty. The stranger did not.  
  
"Oh my God, it's you," he exclaimed as though Castiel was some kind of celebrity. "You're … You're you." 

Castiel raised an eyebrow and fixed the man with his coldest, most imperious stare, the one that had reduced many a clumsy waiter to a trembling puddle of apologies and pleas for a second chance. "Yes, I'm well aware of that. What I would like to know is who _you_ are and what you are doing in my kitchen." 

"Oh. Right." The man's smile faltered for half a second, but then it reappeared, brighter and more charming than before. "Dean Winchester. Your new sous chef." 

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Are you now? And who hired you?" 

"I did," said a voice from behind him. 

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he had a child at home. He could not afford to get arrested for murder. "Naomi," he began as calmly as he could. 

"Perhaps we should talk in my office," she forestalled him. "Dean, join us. Everyone else, back to work." But she didn't tell them to turn off the music. 

Anna snagged Castiel's arm as he walked past her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I told her to wait until you got back, but he's actually really good. Almost as good as you." 

Coming from anyone else that would have sounded like flattery, but Anna had never been one to coddle his ego. She always spoke with perfect honesty. "I'll take that into consideration," he said. "How are you feeling?" 

"Like a balloon that needs to pee every ten minutes, but it's almost over, and then comes the fun part." 

He smiled wryly. "The dirty diapers or being woken up at two a.m.?"  
  
"Both. All of it." She got a misty look in her eyes. "God, I can't wait." 

"Castiel," Naomi called impatiently.  
  
He sighed and went to do battle, but he suspected he had already lost.

~o0o~

"We needed a replacement for Anna anyway, so it made sense for the same person to fill in while you were away. Two birds, one stone. Honestly, Castiel, I don't understand your objection. I thought you'd be glad that it was taken care of. You've told me many times that you prefer to focus on the food and let me deal with the people." 

"You know perfectly well I was talking about the customers, not my staff. I had only one condition when I took this job. I choose who I work with." 

"We were running out of time. Anna could pop any day now, and then you suddenly disappear with no warning." 

Castiel opened his mouth, but she cut him off. 

"I'm not blaming you. Anna told me you had a family emergency, and I won't ask for details. Lord knows you hardly ever take time off. All I'm saying is a decision had to be made quickly, and you weren't available to consult." 

"Fine," he conceded, "but I'm back now, and until Anna actually has the baby, I don't see that I really need two sous chefs." 

"Don't you? Anna can barely go five minutes without a bathroom break, and she doesn't complain but being on her feet all night can't be easy. Dean can help carry the load." 

Dean had so far sat silently while Castiel and Naomi argued. Now he said quietly, "Do I get a say in this?" 

"Well, I presume your position is that you'd like to keep the job," Castiel said acidly. 

"Not necessarily." 

Green eyes regarded Castiel calmly, and he felt a little guilty for snapping. It wasn't Dean's fault that Naomi had put him in the middle of their ongoing power struggle. 

"I'd be honored to cook with the great Castiel Novak," — there was no hint of sarcasm or irony in the words — "but I do have other options, and I'd rather go somewhere I'll be welcome." 

"You're welcome here," Naomi said firmly. 

"I'm sorry," Dean said without looking at her, "but I need to hear that from him. It may be your restaurant, but in the kitchen the chef's opinion is the only one that counts." He smiled at Castiel, and it was less ingratiatingly charming than his earlier smile. More sincere. "So what'll it be, chef?" 

Castiel was grudgingly impressed. He couldn't turn Dean away now without looking petty. "Well, Anna says you're a good cook, and she knows what she's talking about." 

_Unlike Naomi,_ was implied, but she kept silent. She was about to get her way provided she didn't give him a reason to be petty. 

"Very well. You can stay. But no music in the kitchen. It's distracting." 

Dean held up his hands in surrender. "Whatever you say, boss." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains an oblique reference to the potential sexual abuse of a child. Nothing actually happens, I swear.

To Castiel's disgruntlement, it proved increasingly difficult to dislike Dean as the night wore on. Anna was right. He could cook. Castiel purposely (and a little spitefully) assigned him the most difficult items on the menu, but Dean rose to the challenge without breaking a sweat. He easily kept up with the fast pace of the kitchen while still finding the breath to crack jokes and banter playfully with the cooks and waiters. He even had shy, nervous Alfie laughing. In fact, if Castiel could find anything to object to, it was that his staff clearly liked Dean better than they had ever liked Castiel himself, and he sincerely hoped he wasn't childish enough to resent the man just for that. 

If he was being honest, he could see why they all liked him so much. Dean was friendly, personable, funny … and not bad to look at. Not bad at all. Castiel caught himself surreptitiously admiring the way his shoulder muscles moved as he chopped vegetables, the way he licked his lips after tasting a sauce …

He hastily derailed that train of thought. That was a bad idea for so many reasons. Dean was his subordinate. If he made a move and it turned out that his interest was unreciprocated, he could find himself sued for sexual harassment. And even if Dean was gay, single, and interested in Castiel, there was still Claire to think about. He couldn't just bring strange men home anymore. (Not that he had really done that before, but it had at least been an option.) Even dating was going to be more complicated from now on. 

"Can I ask you something?" Dean said when at one point they found themselves working side by side. It was the first time they'd talked since the conversation in Naomi's office if you didn't count Castiel issuing orders and Dean responding with an obedient, _Yes, chef._

"You can ask," Castiel said noncommittally. 

"Where did you learn to cook?" 

Well, that wasn't too personal on the face of it, but Castiel still considered his answer carefully because it verged dangerously close to things he didn't like to even think about let alone discuss with a stranger. Finally he said simply, "My grandmother." 

Dean paused in arranging berries on a dessert plate and blinked at him. "Seriously? I thought you were gonna say you trained at Cordon Bleu or something."  
  
"I did. But my grandmother was my first teacher, and she was better than Cordon Bleu."  
  
Castiel couldn't help watching Dean's hands as they resumed assembling the dessert. They were big, rough with the scars and callouses that every chef acquired from years of working with hot metal and sharp knives. But their movements were deft, gently handling the delicate berries so as not to bruise them. Castiel wondered if those hands were equally skilled in other … areas … _No. Stop that. Bad idea, remember?_

"What about you?" he asked partly to distract himself and partly to turn the conversation away from his own past. "What brought you to cooking?" 

"A girl." Dean smirked.  
  
Castiel's heart sank. So Dean was straight. 

_He could be bi._

_Shut up. It doesn't matter either way because he's off limits._

"Her name was Jo," Dean went on, "and I had a huge crush on her in high school. Her mom owned this little diner, so I got a job there, washing dishes, bussing tables, basically doing whatever I was told, all for slightly better than minimum wage and the privilege of being around Jo. And the free food didn't hurt. Best pie I've ever had." 

"Did you ever get around to asking Jo out?" Castiel asked, finding that he was genuinely curious and enjoying this conversation almost despite himself. Damn, Dean really was impossible to dislike. 

"No," Dean chuckled. "Wouldn't have worked out anyway. We became good friends though, and in the meantime her mom taught me to cook. I enjoyed it so much that I decided to save up and put myself through culinary school. I had the idea that I wanted to open my own restaurant, but …" He trailed off, looking a little wistful. 

"But what?" Castiel asked. 

Dean shrugged. "Well, you know what the restaurant business is like. Most places go under inside a year, and then where would I be? Unemployed and in debt. Besides, this way I'm not tied down. If I want a change of scenery, I just pick a city and find a restaurant in need of a cook. There's always at least one." 

There was something odd about that answer. It didn't quite ring true, but Castiel didn't think Dean was outright lying. It was more like he was trying to convince himself. 

"Is that what brought you here? A change of scenery?"  
  
Dean looked at him and suddenly smiled, the same charming yet sincere smile he had given when he handed Castiel the final decision on whether or not he would stay. "No, I already told you. I came here for the privilege of working with the great Castiel Novak." Again there wasn't a trace of sarcasm in the words. 

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Castiel said dryly, but he wasn't sure that was true. Not with Dean's green eyes twinkling at him so prettily. He had a feeling that spending much time around this man could be very dangerous to his heart.

~o0o~

When he trudged wearily through his front door at half past midnight, Castiel had to pause for the second time that night and make sure he was in the right place. No, this was definitely his apartment, and half of the moaning, writhing tangle of limbs on the couch was his babysitter Josie. The other half was a blandly handsome young man with a rather bony ass. Said ass was hastily covered when the man noticed Castiel's presence.  
  
"M-mister Novak," Josie stammered, pulling her skirt back down and trying to surreptitiously adjust her bra. "S-sorry. Um, this is my boyfriend. Henry."

"Where's Claire?"  
  
"A-asleep, I think."  
  
"You _think_?"

Castiel pushed past the red faced Henry who was now struggling to do up his belt, hurried down the hall, and pushed open the door of his niece's room. She was fast asleep, her blond curls spread out on the pillow, the quilt rising and falling gently with her breathing. He breathed again too. Closing the door quietly, he went back to the living room where the unhappy couple were still trying to make themselves presentable. 

Josie started to apologize again. "I'm so sorry. It's just that we both live in the dorms so it's hard to get time alone. I didn't think it would be a —" 

"Did you leave him alone with Claire?" Castiel cut her off, his voice very steady and very cold. 

"What?" It actually seemed to take her a moment to understand what he was asking. Then her eyes widened in horrified comprehension. "Oh, God. You don't really think … Look, I shouldn't have invited him over without asking you, but Henry's a good guy. He would never —"

"Answer the question," Castiel growled through gritted teeth. "Did you at any time leave him unsupervised with my child?" 

Henry seemed too stunned to speak in his own defense, and honestly Castiel wasn't interested in anything he might say. 

Josie realized that Castiel was completely serious and quickly said, "No. No, she was asleep when he got here. He never even saw her." 

He desperately wanted to believe it. They both looked genuinely horrified by what he was implying, and logically he doubted Claire would be sleeping peacefully if she had recently been … Especially if the person who'd done it was still in the house. Either way he wasn't going to become any more certain by interrogating them until dawn. 

"Very well. Nevertheless your behavior was inexcusable. What if Claire had woken up and found you as I found you? Did you think of that?" 

They said nothing, but he knew the answer. There hadn't been much thinking involved at all. 

He took the agreed upon amount from his wallet and shoved it into Josie's hand. "Get out, both of you. Needless to say I will not be trusting Claire to your care again." 

They beat a hasty retreat.  
  
Castiel was tempted to have a glass of whiskey before bed, but in his current mood he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop at just one, and getting drunk was another thing he couldn't do anymore. He changed into pajamas and collapsed into bed, but as exhausted as he was both physically and emotionally, he couldn't seem to make his brain turn off. He stared up at the ceiling fan, thoughts chasing round and round his head just like the spinning blades. 

He didn't have a prayer of finding another babysitter by tomorrow night. He wouldn't be trusting that agency again, and he didn't exactly have a network of other parents to turn to. He would have to take more time off while he sorted this out. Anna and Dean together could manage, and even if Anna had the baby a little early, there would still be Dean. He was so popular with the staff, probably no one would even notice Castiel's absence. (That thought was more than a little bitter, so maybe he _was_ that childish.)

His bedroom door creaked open. He sat up and turned on the light. Claire was standing at the foot of the bed, her favorite stuffed cat clutched to her chest. His heart plummeted into his stomach. Had she been faking sleep before, waiting until she was sure that Josie and Henry were gone?

"What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
But of course his only answer was a solemn stare. 

He sighed and got out of bed to kneel in front of her. "Claire," he said, looking into her blue eyes, so much like Jimmy's and therefore like Castiel's own eyes. People would probably assume she was his daughter if they didn't know otherwise. "Claire, did Josie or her friend hurt you?" 

She shook her head. 

"You're sure? You won't get in any trouble, I promise. Did they do anything you weren't comfortable with?" 

She shook her head again. 

"Okay." He breathed another sigh of relief, but he knew it was only a temporary reprieve. So this was parenthood. A state of near constant dread, hyper-aware of just how many bad things were lurking out there in the world. "So what are you doing out of bed? Did you have a bad dream?" 

She nodded and looked pointedly at his big bed. 

"You want to stay with me tonight?"  
  
A nod.  
  
"All right." 

She wasted no time clambering onto the bed and making herself comfortable. When he went to turn off the light, she made a soft, inarticulate noise of protest. 

"Light on. Got it." He resigned himself to a sleepless night as he laid back down. 

To his surprise, after staring at him contemplatively for a moment, she dragged her pillow to the middle of the bed and snuggled up against his shoulder, her cat smushed between them. She had been distant with him so far. He'd attributed it to her not knowing him very well and maybe a fear that showing him affection would be a betrayal of her father. He tentatively stroked her hair. She sighed contentedly and let her eyes drift closed.  
  
On an impulse he asked, "How would you like to come to the restaurant with me tomorrow after school?" If she got tired she could nap on the couch in Naomi's office, and tomorrow was Friday, so he could let her sleep in Saturday morning.

Claire picked up her head to look at him, maybe to make sure he really meant it, and he knew right away it had been a good idea. For the first time since the accident she looked like a normal little girl instead of a pale, listless ghost. Her eyes were bright with excitement, and she nodded vigorously. 

"Okay," he said with a smile. At least he'd gotten one thing right tonight. "Try to sleep now. I'll be right here if you have any more bad dreams." 


	4. Chapter 4

Naomi was on the phone handling reservations when Castiel walked in with Claire, so he managed to slip past her and into the kitchen before she could say anything. 

"Who's this?" Anna asked with raised eyebrows. Everyone else had paused in their prep work too and was staring at Castiel and the child who looked like she could be his daughter, expressions ranging from mild bemusement to total shock.  
  
"This is my niece Claire," Castiel said, answering Anna but addressing everyone. "She's going to be hanging out here tonight." He wondered if he should mention the mute thing, then decided that they would either figure it out or assume she was just shy. 

"Hello, Claire," Anna said, bending down to the little girl's level with some difficulty. "I'm Anna. I'm your uncle's sous chef." 

Claire gave Castiel a questioning look.

"That means she's second in command," Castiel explained, "and when I'm not in the kitchen, she's in charge of everything." He noticed Naomi standing by the door, giving him a we-need-to-talk look, so he led Claire to the chef's table, the closest thing to a quiet corner there was in a restaurant kitchen, and got her settled. "Do your homework before the coloring book," he said, "and in a few minutes I'll find you something to eat." 

Since that first dinner, he hadn't had much more success at getting her to eat his cooking. He'd started resorting to peanut butter sandwiches which were at least marginally healthier than pizza, but he couldn't shake the guilty feeling that he was turning into his mother. 

As he started to move away, Claire grabbed his sleeve and looked up at him imploringly. He was getting pretty good at interpreting her silent communications, but this one took him a moment to decipher. When he realized what was worrying her, his heart broke a little bit more.  
  
"I won't go far," he promised, brushing a stray curl off her face. "I'll stay where you can see me, all right?" 

She nodded and reluctantly let him go. He felt her eyes following him all the way across the kitchen. 

"I take it this was your family emergency," Naomi said when he joined her. 

"Yes. Please don't ask me to explain." He was not ready to talk about Jimmy, especially not with someone he didn't even like. "Suffice to say, she's my responsibility, and I couldn't find a babysitter. She won't be any trouble, I promise. She's a very quiet kid." 

Naomi tilted her head and gave him a slightly puzzled look. "Castiel, I have no objection. Why do you assume I'm going to fight with you?" 

He paused, feeling like he'd missed a step going down stairs. "Because you usually do." 

Naomi's mouth twitched in what might have been a faint smile. "Well, not about this. Contrary to what you may believe, I have no wish to make your life unnecessarily difficult. You may bring her here whenever you need to, provided of course that it doesn't interfere with the smooth running of the kitchen." 

"Of course," he said, then added a little belatedly, "Thank you." 

Fortunately she left it at that. Castiel didn't think he could have handled much more of this strange new friendliness. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

~o0o~

Castiel was standing in the big fridge, staring blankly at the shelves of ingredients and trying to think of a way to combine them into something a nine year old would eat, when the door opened and Dean came in. 

"Watcha looking for?" he asked, letting the door swing closed behind him to keep in the cold. 

Castiel turned and almost immediately forgot what the question had been. The fridge was big but still a relatively small space for two grown men to share, and the forced proximity plus the cold made Castiel suddenly acutely aware of Dean's body, how big and warm and solid it was. God, what would it feel like to be pinned under that broad chest or to wake cuddled up against it? 

"Cas? Earth to Cas." 

Castiel mentally shook himself, his face suddenly feeling significantly warmer than the rest of him. He was an adult, so why couldn't he stop fantasizing about Dean like a teenager with a crush? Then he registered what Dean had said and blinked. "What did you just call me?" 

"Cas. Short for Castiel? Sorry. I'm a compulsive nicknamer. If you don't like it, I —"

"No, it's fine." Jimmy had always called him that, and maybe the reminder should have hurt, but it didn't. Quite the opposite. It eased the ache of loss, made him feel almost like a whole person again instead of a pile of jagged edged fragments. 

"Okay," Dean said after a slightly awkward silence. "So what were you looking for?" 

Castiel sighed and went back to his frustrated contemplation of the fridge's contents though he was still very aware of Dean, so close but as untouchable as if they were on different planets. "Something to feed Claire." 

"Ah. Picky eater?" 

"Understatement. I have cooked for the most notoriously hard to please food critics in the world and gotten rave reviews, but I can't get her to even taste most of what I make." 

"Well, with kids it's less about quality than it is about familiarity. What's she used to?" 

"I don't know, and I can't exactly ask her." 

"Why not?" 

"Because she doesn't talk. Not at the moment anyway." 

"Oh. Yeah, I did that for a while when I was a kid." 

Castiel blinked at Dean in mild surprise again. "You did?" 

"Yeah. After my mom died, I didn't speak a word for almost a year. I guess I felt like that was something I could control." Dean said it casually, not like he was sharing a secret, but Castiel still felt like he'd been offered something private, a glimpse behind the mask of charm and easy humor that Dean showed the rest of the world. Before he could think of an appropriate reply, Dean said, "What about grilled cheese? I never met a kid who didn't like grilled cheese." 

~o0o~

Apparently Claire was no exception. She gobbled up four sandwiches. Castiel tried halfheartedly to resent Dean just a little for succeeding so quickly where he himself had failed repeatedly, but he wasn't selfish enough to be unhappy about anything that made Claire happy.

The books and games she had brought remained in her backpack untouched. Once she finished her homework, Claire sat quietly and watched the activity of the kitchen as though it was the most interesting television program ever made. At about ten o'clock she fell asleep sitting up and almost fell off her chair, so Castiel carefully moved her to Naomi's couch. 

When they had done their final cleanup and everyone was putting on their coats and wishing each other good night, Dean handed Castiel a piece of paper with a name and a phone number. 

"She's a professional babysitter," he said in answer to Castiel's quizzical look. "She helped out a friend of mine while his wife was in the hospital. She's trustworthy and really good with kids. I don't know what her schedule is like these days, but she might have an opening. Or she might know someone else." 

"Thank you," Castiel said, tucking the paper in his pocket. "Dean, I feel I owe you an apology. For last night. I was annoyed with Naomi really, but you got caught in the crossfire which you did not deserve. I'd like it if we could start over. As friends this time." 

Dean smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that too. You need help getting Sleeping Beauty home?" 

"No, I'll get a cab, but thank you."  
  
"Okay. Night, Cas. See you tomorrow." 

"Good night, Dean." 


	5. Chapter 5

Missouri Moseley looked like she was made of pillows and chocolate and comfort, but there was a core of steel beneath the soft, welcoming exterior. Castiel could easily believe that she would kill with her bare hands to protect the children in her care, or indeed any child anywhere. Calling her motherly was like calling Mount Everest a big rock. She was the quintessential personification of mother-ness, and from the moment he met her Castiel began to feel like everything just might be okay. 

Claire was disappointed that she wouldn't get to go to the restaurant every night, and since it was the only thing she'd shown enthusiasm for in weeks, Castiel relented a little and promised she could still come with him on weekends provided she behaved for Missouri and went to bed on time every school night. 

"I doubt she'll give you any trouble," he told Missouri when Claire was out of earshot. "Honestly, she's so well behaved that it's starting to worry me. I almost wish she'd throw one good tantrum so I know she's still a kid underneath it all. I know, I know," he added quickly. "Be careful what you wish for." 

"That's not what I was thinking," Missouri said, her dark eyes twinkling at him. "Want to guess again?" 

Castiel knew a trick question when he heard one. "No. What were you thinking?" 

"That you've learned something a lot of parents never figure out. Kids ain't supposed to be well behaved all the time. They're not little angels. They're human beings with feelings and opinions." She reached up and patted his cheek, and even though he usually didn't like to be touched by strangers, this felt as natural as if she was his own grandmother. "She'll come back to herself eventually, sugar, and when she does, you remember to thank the Lord for every sulk and every slammed door." 

He smiled. "I haven't believed in God for a very long time, but I take your meaning, and I'll try to remember."

~o0o~

In December Anna gave birth to a healthy baby girl, and Dean officially stepped into the role of sous chef at _Paradis_. The transition was remarkably smooth, and much as he hated to give Naomi credit, Castiel had to admit that having Dean and Anna overlap for a few weeks had been a good idea. Now Dean knew the menu back to front and was comfortable enough with the kitchen and the staff to wear his new authority with confidence. The only remaining problem was Castiel's unabating attraction to his handsome new assistant. 

He had hoped that prolonged exposure to Dean would cure him of that, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect. The more time he spent with the man, the more he wanted him, and his fantasies were no longer purely sexual either. He caught himself imagining lazy Saturday mornings, cooking breakfast together, Dean barefoot and possibly wearing one of Castiel's shirts, sunlight slanting through the kitchen window and highlighting the golden scruff on his strong jaw, the cute dusting of freckles on his nose. Castiel knew that those kinds of thoughts were far more dangerous than just wanting to bed Dean, but he couldn't seem to convince his subconscious of that. 

By some miracle Dean seemed completely oblivious to his boss's extremely unprofessional feelings, and their interactions remained easy and friendly. He continued to help Castiel brainstorm new things to feed Claire, and together they painstakingly built a list of meals that were both healthy and kid friendly. Dean was good with Claire in more than just the food department too. Most adults found her silence and her solemn stares off putting, but he talked to her the same way he talked to everyone else except that he was careful to phrase his questions so that she could respond with a simple nod or head shake. He even made her laugh occasionally with funny stories about the various restaurants he'd worked in and the people he'd met. 

"Dean, can I ask your opinion on something?" Castiel said during a quiet moment after closing one night when they were the last ones left in the kitchen. 

"Sure. Need more kid food advice?" 

"No, although it is child related." He took out his phone, pulled up the Amazon link he had saved, and showed it to Dean. "I'm thinking of getting this for Claire for Christmas. Is it too much? I don't want to seem like I'm bribing her to like me, but this is her first Christmas with me and I really want it to be a good memory, and she's so fascinated by the restaurant —"

"Cas," Dean gently cut off his babbling. "It's perfect. And she already likes you, you know. You're a great dad." 

Castiel felt himself blushing at the praise. "I don't know about that," he said. "I feel like I'm failing eighty percent of the time." 

"Pretty sure all parents feel that way. Trust me. I know from bad fathers, and you are not." 

Once again, even though it was said casually enough, Castiel somehow knew that he had just been offered a glimpse of a piece of Dean very few people got to see. He had an instinctive urge to share something personal in return, and before he had really thought about it, he found himself saying, "My brother was a wonderful father. Claire's mother died when she was a baby, and Jimmy …" 

It was the first time he had spoken his twin's name aloud since the accident, and it didn't hurt as much as he'd expected. It was a relief to find that he could allow himself to remember without risking his sanity. 

"Jimmy made Claire his whole world. He somehow managed to dote on her without spoiling her, and she adored him just as much. He was her best friend." 

He felt a warm hand squeeze his arm, but Dean didn't say anything, and Castiel liked the man a little more for knowing when words were inadequate and a human presence was enough. 

"Do you have any plans for Christmas?" Castiel asked as they put on their coats and turned out the lights.  
  
"No, nothing special. My brother was gonna come visit, but he, um … He can't make it, so I'll probably just cook something for myself and have a _Die Hard_ marathon."

That sounded so unbearably depressing that Castiel again found himself speaking without thinking. "You could join us for dinner." 

Something bright and hopeful flared up in Dean's eyes, but then it was stifled, and he said, "That's okay. I don't want to intrude." 

"You're not intruding. I'm inviting you. You can cook something if it'll make you feel better."

Dean looked very tempted, but he still hesitated. It was Castiel's turn to reach out and touch the other man's arm. 

"This isn't pity, Dean. We're friends, remember? And I really would appreciate some adult company. Someone I can have an actual conversation with." 

Dean smiled gratefully. "Okay, fine. What should I make?"

"Whatever you want. Surprise me." 


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel had mixed feelings about Christmas. He wasn't a Scrooge. He didn't hate the holiday season or resent people for being cheerful and festive. (The endless repetition of the same twenty songs on the radio got on his nerves eventually, but everyone complained about that.) He just didn't have the same nostalgic attachment to Christmas that other people did. He had no memories of tearing into brightly colored wrapping paper to reveal long awaited treasures. His presents (when there were any) were battered, secondhand things that had obviously been donated to charity by some other kid who had more toys than he knew what to do with, and when he went back to school everyone would be showing off their shiny new Transformers and Star Wars action figures and Barbies, and any happiness he had managed to find would melt away like snow in the sunlight. 

But Jimmy had all the same memories Castiel did, and he had never let that stop him from giving Claire the best Christmas he could afford. Castiel owed her no less. 

A live tree was out of the question. Most apartment buildings in New York banned them because of the risk of bugs and vermin, but Claire helped him pick out a decent size fake that actually smelled like pine, and some lights and other decorations. In fact she practically skipped around the store, running back to him now and then and holding out an ornament with a pleading look. It was the first thing she'd gotten excited about that wasn't connected to the restaurant, and because of that he probably spent more than he should, but he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty. Christmas was made for spoiling kids, and it was so good to see her smile. 

After they got the tree set up in the living room and liberally if somewhat haphazardly adorned it with lights, baubles, and plastic reindeer with glowing red noses, Castiel brought out the box he had found in Jimmy's closet when he was cleaning out the house. Claire recognized it immediately, and for a moment her face went completely blank. 

"We don't have to use them if you don't want to," Castiel said, setting the box in front of her but leaving it closed. "But I thought you might like to see them up there with everything else. Make it feel more like home. It's up to you." 

She unfroze a little once she knew he wasn't going to force this on her, and she slowly sat down on the floor next to the box, her fingers tentatively tracing the edges, but she didn't open it yet either. 

Realizing that she might not want to be stared at while she worked through her feelings, Castiel said, "How about I make us some hot cocoa." 

She nodded and gave him a little smile. 

He made it from scratch of course and took his time, resisting the urge to check on her. On an impulse he added a swirl of caramel and a pinch of salt, only realizing after he'd done it that it was a Jimmy thing. Jimmy had been addicted to salted caramel anything. Castiel had teased him that he would eat dirt if it was salted caramel flavored. Again the memory didn't hurt as much as he'd expected, and he didn't feel the need to throw out the cocoa and start again. He poured it into two mugs, topped both with a generous amount of whipped cream, and took them back to the living room. 

The box was empty, and Claire was hanging the last ornament, a handmade felt Santa Clause with a cotton ball beard and googly eyes. She had actually distributed the old ornaments fairly symmetrically among the new ones although she obviously couldn't reach the high branches. 

"It looks beautiful," Castiel said quietly. 

She turned towards him, and he saw tears on her face. He quickly put the cups down on the coffee table and gathered her into his arms without a second thought. She didn't sob or wail like a child crying because she couldn't have something she wanted. She cried like an adult finally accepting a loss and allowing herself to grieve. 

~o0o~

Dean showed up promptly at four on Christmas Day with a covered dish wrapped in towels to keep it warm. "Homemade mac and cheese," he said before Castiel could ask. "A Winchester Christmas tradition. Course when I was a kid it came from a box, but I figured I could do better for you." 

"Thank you," Castiel said, taking the dish. "I'm sure it will be delicious. I'll put it in the oven with the rest of the food while I finish setting the table." 

"Can I help with anything?" Dean asked, but at that moment Claire ran over and started tugging on his arm, wordlessly demanding that he come look at her tree and her presents. 

"That's all right," Castiel chuckled. "I've got it under control. You relax. Claire, at least let him take his coat off first." 

The next time he poked his head into the living room, Claire was showing Dean her brand new play kitchen, complete with pots and pans and plastic food. Dean had been right. It was the perfect gift. She had been cooking an imaginary feast since the ungodly hour of seven a.m. which had given Castiel plenty of time to prepare their actual dinner. She was now demonstrating how the burners lit up when you turned the knob and the dishwasher made noises like it was actually working when you pressed the button. Dean looked suitably impressed. 

"Hey, I got you something too," Dean said, taking a square package from his coat pocket. 

Claire's face lit up and she was about to tear off the wrapping paper when she paused and looked worriedly at Castiel. Clearly Jimmy had taught her not to take gifts from strangers without checking with him first. 

"It's all right," Castiel assured her. He knew what was in the package because Dean had texted him a picture and asked if it was okay to buy it for her. 

Claire peeled away the paper to reveal a book with the words _Junior Chef's First Cookbook_ on the cover.  
  
Claire stared at it open mouthed for a moment, then launched herself at Dean, narrowly avoiding poking him in the eye with the corner of the book as she threw her arms around his neck in a silent thank you. Dean patted her back a little awkwardly, but he looked pleased. 

Dinner was an unquestionable success. Claire had second helpings of everything and no less than four helpings of Dean's macaroni and cheese.

"Guess I'll have to give your uncle the recipe," Dean said, watching her scraping her plate clean yet again. 

"I would have asked for it even if she didn't like it," Castiel said. "This is amazing. You could open a restaurant and serve nothing but this." 

Dean laughed. "I don't know about that, but if I ever do open my own place, I'd definitely do lots of comfort food. This shepherd's pie is pretty damn good too by the way." He helped himself to another generous scoop. 

"I guess we'll be trading recipes then." 

Dean insisted on helping with the clean up, and Castiel didn't actually protest too much. 

"Thank you for that book," he said as he rinsed plates and handed them to Dean to put in the dishwasher. "She really loves it. I can tell." 

"Oh. It wasn't a big deal," Dean said, his ears turning a little pink. "I just happened to spot it and thought of her. I didn't go out of my way or nothing." 

"Dean." Castiel waited for the other man to meet his eyes before he continued. "You made her happy. And that is no small thing these days. Shut up and take the compliment." 

Dean blushed even more, and Castiel had to sternly repress the urge to lean forward and kiss those pink cheeks. 

Once the kitchen was clean, Dean looked like he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to leave or not, so Castiel solved the dilemma by pointedly taking three mugs out of the cabinet and going about making hot cocoa and caramel popcorn, delegating certain tasks to Dean the same way he did in the restaurant kitchen but with a softer, less brusque tone that he hoped would convey that they were just being friends right now, not chef and sous chef. Judging by Dean's shyly happy smile, the message was received.


	7. Chapter 7

They watched _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ and then _It's A Wonderful Life_. Claire curled up between Dean and Castiel on the couch, seeming equally at ease with both of them. It was all so comfortable and domestic, so much like Castiel's secret, sunlit fantasy, that when he came back from tucking an exhausted Claire into bed and saw Dean putting on his coat, he felt a sinking disappointment as he abruptly remembered that Dean was just visiting. 

"You don't have to go," he said, or rather blurted. "I mean …" He made a conscious effort to sound hospitable rather than clingy. "You can stay a while longer. If you want to. We could watch something a bit more adult." 

Dean's eyebrows rose. 

"Oh, God. I didn't … Not adult in _that_ sense. I meant … _Die Hard_?" Castiel suggested desperately. 

Dean laughed. "I knew what you meant. I'm just messing with you. You're cute when you get all flustered."  
  
Castiel blinked. Cute? Had he heard that right? Did straight men often call their male friends cute? He didn't know. He didn't have much experience with friends of any orientation. 

To cover his confusion he said, "Would you like a drink? I have a bottle of scotch that my brother gave me for —" He broke off as he realized that that was the last gift Jimmy had ever given him and maybe he wasn't ready to drink it just yet. 

"I'm driving," Dean said quickly, "but I wouldn't say no to some more cocoa." 

Castiel smiled gratefully and ducked into the kitchen to collect himself. 

By the time they were settled back on the couch with their cocoa however, the easy atmosphere had completely evaporated. They were as awkward and uncertain of each other as if they were meeting for the first time. Fortunately the movie gave them something to do other than make conversation, but Castiel had never really liked action movies, and his mind kept wandering back to Dean's offhand comment.

He was almost certainly reading too much into it. It was just a word, right? There was no rule that you couldn't call someone cute unless you wanted to screw them. Babies were cute. Puppies were cute. Bunnies. Pretty much anything small and furry. 

"Cas, can I ask you something?" 

He turned to look at Dean who wasn't paying attention to the movie anymore either. "Of course." 

Dean bit his lip nervously, and Castiel had to make an effort to maintain eye contact and not stare at the other man's mouth. "Okay, if I'm completely off base here, just tell me and we'll say no more about it. Do you … like me?" 

Castiel's heart dropped into his stomach. Perhaps Dean didn't mean this the way it sounded either. It was a slim hope, but he clung to it. "You mean as a friend?" 

Dean gave him a level look. "No. You know what I mean." 

Castiel sighed. So that was it. The end of their friendship. Of course they would still have to see each other at work, at least until Anna came back, but it would be awkward and tense much like it was right now, and there would be no more consultations about kid food and no more basking in the warmth of Dean's smile. Dean would go back to calling him chef instead of Cas. 

Well, best to just get it over with quickly, and then Dean could leave, and Castiel could go to sleep in his lonely bed, and tomorrow he would start working on piecing his heart back together.

He looked down at his own hands, curled around his half finished mug of cocoa. He tried to take comfort in the lingering warmth, but like the rest of this wonderful day, it was fading fast, soon to be gone for good. "Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, I'm gay, and yes, I find you extremely attractive. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Please believe me when I say that I would never have acted on my feelings without your express permission. I would have been content to have your friendship."

"What? What the hell, Cas?" 

Castiel flinched and squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't have to see Dean's anger. 

"You … Why are you talking like you don't want to be friends anymore?" 

His eyes flew open. Dean was staring at him, hurt and confusion and something that almost looked like hope warring in those green depths. "I thought," Castiel said cautiously, "that _you_ wouldn't want to. I understand it's uncomfortable to be the object of someone's attraction when you don't feel the same, particularly when that person is another man and you're … Why are you laughing?" 

With every word out of Castiel's mouth Dean seemed to become more amused, and finally it bubbled out in a surprised, delighted laugh. "Oh, you … you gorgeous, unbelievable idiot," he gasped between fits of laughter. "You seriously think I'm straight?" 

"You're not?" Castiel's brain was scrambling to catch up.  
  
"If I was straight, would I do this?" And Dean leaned forward and kissed Castiel full on the lips. 

It was a good thing Castiel had already confirmed that he found Dean attractive because he was still too much in shock to kiss back. "Um, no, probably not," he agreed when Dean pulled away after a few seconds. "So you … I … we …" He gave up on forming a coherent sentence, put his cup down on the coffee table, took Dean's cup out of his hands and put it safely out of the way as well, then finally climbed into the other man's lap and kissed him like it was going out of style. 

The movie was still playing, but the volume was low so it wouldn't wake Claire, and the wet sounds of lips and tongues getting thoroughly acquainted, plus the occasional moan or whimper when one of them found a particularly sensitive spot, effectively drowned out everything else. Those big hands that Castiel had been secretly (or apparently not so secretly) admiring for weeks slid under his shirt, and they felt exactly as good as he'd imagined, rough but gentle and undeniably masculine. A calloused thumb rubbed over his nipple, and he gasped, sucking breath directly from Dean's mouth which tasted like chocolate and caramel. 

He became aware that he was very hard, and the urge to move his hips against Dean's and get some friction was almost irresistible. There was a sizable bulge in Dean's pants that indicated the other man would be more than willing to take this to the next level. With a tremendous effort, Castiel forced himself to pull away and return to the other end of the couch. 

For a long minute they just sat there, catching their breath and carefully not looking at each other. "That, um … that wasn't too much, was it?" Dean finally said hoarsely.

"No, not at all," Castiel assured him, his voice similarly rough. "It was very … very enjoyable." 

"I'm sensing a but." 

Castiel reached for the remote and paused the movie. "Dean, I'm sorry if this is too heavy a question for less than five minutes after our first kiss, but I need to know. What are you looking for here? Because I can't have a casual relationship. I have to think of Claire. She needs stability, now more than ever." 

Dean turned to face Castiel and took one of his hands. "Cas, if you're asking if I'm interested in more than just sex, the answer is hell yes. I like you a lot. Obviously I'm not ready to promise forever, but I _can_ promise that whatever happens between us, I won't let it hurt Claire. We'll give it our best shot, and if it doesn't work, then we end it like civilized adults. We don't let it go nuclear. Deal?" 

Castiel squeezed Dean's hand. "Deal."  
  
"Wanna seal it with a kiss?" Dean asked hopefully. 

Castiel smiled. "I'm not sure I could stop at one kiss, and much as I would love to ask you to spend the night, I think I should discuss some things with Claire before we do that. I have no idea if Jimmy ever explained the whole sometimes-boys-like-boys thing to her, and I don't want to confuse her." 

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I get that. Besides, if we're gonna give this a real chance, we should probably, you know, go on an actual date or two before jumping into bed together." 

"Yes," Castiel chuckled. "That would probably be a good idea." He glanced sideways at the frozen movie. "What are the odds that we'll make it through another hour without having sex on the couch?" 

Dean sighed. "Slim to none. I'll take that as my cue to get going." 

He stood up, but Castiel held onto his hand for a moment. "I don't want you to, you know." 

Dean looked down at him and smiled. "I know. And you know I don't want to. Which is why I need to." 

Castiel stood up too. "Do you think … Maybe we could risk one goodnight kiss?" 

Dean's eyes flickered down to Castiel's lips. "Yeah, I think maybe we could." But when Castiel started to lean forward, Dean stepped back. "At the door," he said. "Just in case." 

Castiel nodded and reluctantly let go of Dean's hand so the man could put on his coat. They walked to the door. Castiel opened it, then turned toward Dean. Dean was already moving to meet him halfway. 

This kiss was different, neither as short as their first nor as frantic and hungry as the ones that had followed. It was deep and slow with no intent to arouse (although there was inevitably some arousal despite their best efforts). It was, Castiel thought, like taking a deep breath before diving underwater. 

As they parted, Dean murmured against Castiel's lips, "Merry Christmas, Cas." 

Castiel laughed. This was without a doubt the best Christmas present he'd ever had. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief discussion of homophobia

At breakfast the next morning Castiel decided to just bite the bullet. If he was going to make it through Claire's teenage years, he'd best get used to having the difficult conversations now. 

"Do you like Dean?" he asked as a way to broach the subject although he was pretty sure he already knew what the answer would be. 

Sure enough, Claire looked up from her pancakes and nodded enthusiastically. 

Castiel smiled. "Yeah. Me too. I, um … I think I might invite him over here more often. Would you be comfortable with that?" 

Another definitive yes. 

Okay. So far so good. Now for the hard part. "And sometimes he might … stay overnight. Like a sleepover party." 

That got a puzzled frown. The apartment only had two bedrooms. 

"He would sleep in my room," Castiel clarified. "You don't have to give up your bed." 

Claire pointed at Castiel, still frowning. 

"I would sleep in my room too. With Dean. The thing is, Claire …" He stopped. This was harder than he'd expected. How the hell did you explain sexuality without actually getting into the subject of sex? Then he had a flash of inspiration. "You remember when you were watching _Lilo and Stitch_ the other day?" 

She nodded. She was still clearly confused, but she was a kid. She was used to not understanding the things grown ups said, so she listened and waited patiently for him to start making sense. 

"You know how in the movie David likes Nani? And he likes Lilo too, but he likes her in a different way. He likes Lilo as a little sister or … or a niece. The way I like you. But he wants Nani to be his girlfriend, right? Well, I like Dean the way David likes Nani." 

She was still frowning.  
  
"Are you confused because Dean isn't a girl?" he asked gently. 

She nodded. 

"Okay. So in real life sometimes men fall in love with women, and sometimes they fall in love with other men. And some people think that's wrong and men should only love women, but that's not true. Some men are just born a little different, and they're not able to fall in love with a woman, but that doesn't mean they should have to be alone their whole life." 

Claire's frown had turned thoughtful rather than confused. She was absorbing his words, turning them over in her head and slowly fitting them into the jigsaw puzzle of her ever evolving worldview. He waited. Finally she stood up, took the message pad off the fridge, and brought it back to the table. 

Castiel watched in amazement as she began to write. He knew she _could_ write of course, but so far she had refused to use it for anything but her schoolwork. The doctor back in Illinois had told Castiel that this too was perfectly normal. Traumatic mutism was less about an inability to talk and more about the mind refusing to interact with a world that had suddenly become too frightening and unpredictable. So the fact that she was willing to use words even if they weren't spoken words yet meant that she was starting to feel safe again.

She pushed the pad towards him and he read, _You want Deen to be yor boyfrend?_ He made a mental note to work with her on spelling, but now didn't seem like a good time to criticize. He didn't want to discourage her from communicating with him this way. 

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I do." 

She took the pad back and wrote, _You luv him?_

"I …" It would be simpler to just say yes, but it wouldn't be honest, so he did his best to explain. "I don't know. This is another way that real life is different from Disney. Sometimes you need to spend a lot of time with someone so you can figure out if you're in love with them or not. Right now I just know that I like him. He's kind and funny and …" _An excellent kisser_. He kept that part to himself. "And I enjoy his company. I'd like to get to know him better." 

She considered her next question for almost a full minute before she wrote, _Can girls luv girls the saym way boys luv boys?_

"Yes," Castiel said with a smile. "They can. But I think you should wait until you're older before you decide which one you like. I know boys might seem kind of icky right now, but things change as you grow up." 

~o0o~

In their haste to be responsible and not have impulsive couch sex, they had neglected to discuss how things would work at … well, work. Castiel really, _really_ didn't want a stupid failure of communication to derail them before they'd even got started, so as soon as he walked in to the kitchen, before Dean could so much as say hello, he said, "Dean, may I have a private word please?" 

Several of the staff gave Dean pitying looks, and Gabe muttered not quite under his breath, "Uh oh. Someone's in trouble." Castiel ignored them and led Dean into the pantry. If they thought this was a patented Chef Novak telling off, so much the better. They would think twice about interrupting lest they get caught in the crossfire. There were advantages to being feared. 

"Am I?" Dean said nervously once the door was closed. "In trouble?" 

"No." Castiel took a breath and let it out, letting go of his brusque, bossy work persona and being just Castiel again. "No, I just thought this was a conversation best had in private. We need to decide how we're going to handle this. Working together and being …" _A couple_ sounded presumptuous at this stage so he went with, "Involved."  
  
"Oh. Right." Dean didn't relax. If anything he looked even more tense. "Thing is, Cas, um … You know how you said you couldn't have a casual relationship?"  
  
Castiel's heart stopped. That was what it felt like anyway. An icy hand reached into his chest and squeezed. He should have known this was too good to be true. Dean had reconsidered in the sober light of day and decided that he didn't want Castiel after all. 

The voice of insecurity almost drowned out what Dean was actually saying. "Well, _I_ can't have a secret relationship. I did my time in the closet, thanks, and it was hell. I won't live like that again. I can't. I'm sorry if that's a deal breaker." 

The wave of relief was so intense it made Castiel a little weak at the knees. He stepped closer to Dean and gently touched the other man's cheek. "Hey. It's okay. Breathe, Dean. I wasn't suggesting that. I have nothing to hide. I'm merely saying that we should be sure of each other's boundaries so we don't violate them accidentally." 

Dean finally untensed, the wariness disappearing from his eyes. "Oh. Right. Of course. You're right. Sorry for … freaking out on you." 

"You don't have to apologize. I understand. I did my time in the closet too, and I wouldn't go back for anyone. That said, there is a difference between secrecy and privacy. How do you feel about PDA?" 

"I'm okay with it most of the time, but we should probably keep it to a minimum in the kitchen if only so we don't get distracted and start a fire." 

Castiel couldn't help smirking. "Literally or metaphorically?" 

Dean laughed. "Both? There were definitely sparks flying last night. Please tell me I didn't imagine that." 

"Oh, there were sparks." His gaze drifted down to Dean's mouth as he remembered how perfect those lips had felt on his, how utterly gorgeous they looked all pink and swollen and wet with Castiel's saliva. Alone in his bed after Dean had gone, he'd gotten himself off to the image of those lips doing things far less innocent than a little kissing. He wondered if Dean had done the same. 

Their eyes locked again, and the air between them crackled with so much sexual tension it was almost visible to the naked eye. This was half a second away from turning into another horny make out session. Castiel took a step back and made a herculean effort to remember what they'd been talking about. Boundaries. Right. 

"Define minimum."

"What?" Dean too needed a moment to remember how to think with his upstairs brain. Castiel tried not to feel too smug about that (and failed abysmally). "Oh. Um … Well, no kissing, I guess."  
  
"On the mouth or none at all?" 

Dean considered for a moment, then decided, "None at all. At least for now. Maybe once we've, you know, gotten this out of our systems" — Translation: had sex a few times — "we can risk it. Right now we're clearly wound way too tight." 

"Agreed. And where is it okay for me to touch you in public?" 

"Anywhere above the waist." 

"Including your face?" That would give them away for sure. Touching someone's face was pretty much universally considered intimate, particularly between two men. 

"Yes," Dean said without hesitation. 

Castiel nodded. "Okay. I think that covers everything important."

"Wait. What about you?"  
  
"What about me?" 

"What are your boundaries?"

"Oh." Castiel gave a low chuckle. "You will soon discover, Dean, that I am completely without shame." Then he realized that while it was still technically true, one caveat had to be added. He held up a finger. "Except around Claire. I have no issue with kissing in front of her, but —"

"Everyone keeps their clothes on until the kid's asleep. I know the drill," Dean said. "You're not the first single parent I've dated." 

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me. You're devastatingly handsome, you like kids, and you can cook. You're every single mother's dream guy." 

Dean laughed. "Yeah, except for the part where I'm hella fucking gay. Speaking of, how did Claire take the whole 'I like boys' thing?" 

"Surprisingly well. It helps that at her age romance is a very nebulous concept anyway. It's an adult thing, so it comes as no surprise to her that it's more complicated than she realized. And now that that part's taken care of, I thought maybe we could go out to lunch one day while Claire's in school." 

"Sounds great," Dean said with one of those smiles that lit up his whole face and warmed Castiel from the inside out with its glow. "Did you have somewhere in mind?" 

"I did. I know a great little place in Chinatown. You'll have to drive though. I don't own a car."

For some reason this made Dean light up even more. "Oh, man. You haven't met my car yet, have you?" 

Castiel barely restrained a snort. "I'm sorry. _Met_ your car? Are you one of those guys who talks to his car like it's a person?" 

Dean looked highly offended. " _She_ , Cas. My baby is not an it. _She's_ a classy lady. Tell you what. I'll give you a ride home tonight and you two can get acquainted."

"So long as that isn't a ploy to get me acquainted with your back seat," Castiel said playfully. "I'm a classy lady too. Two date minimum." He wasn't entirely joking, but he knew Dean would never push or manipulate him into doing something he wasn't ready for.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, no. Not saying I've never done that. It's a really good thing the car can't actually talk or she'd have some stories for you. But I'm not eighteen anymore. I don't think my back could take it. And besides …" He stepped into Castiel's space and put a finger under his chin, gently tipping his head back until it was at the perfect angle for kissing, but he didn't kiss. He just looked. The heat still smoldered in those green eyes, but it was controlled, patient. "The first time I have you, I want you to be comfortable so I can take my time. Pick you apart nice and slow until you're begging for me, then make you come so hard you can't remember your own name, only mine." 

His voice rolled over and through Castiel, smooth and dark as melted chocolate, and Castiel bit back a very undignified whimper. Dean suddenly closed the last inch of space between them and pressed their lips together, a brief, close mouthed kiss but almost bruising in its intensity. Then, just when Castiel was about to flick his tongue out and swipe along Dean's bottom lip, his tried and true method for signaling that he would like to be kissed for real now please and he could make it worth his kissing partner's while, Dean pulled away and stepped neatly out of reach. 

"See you in the kitchen, chef," he said, his eyes twinkling in a way that left no doubt he knew exactly what he was doing to Castiel and was enjoying every minute of it. He walked out of the pantry looking nothing like a man who'd just been told off by the boss. 


	9. Chapter 9

The day after New Year's, Castiel was standing in his bedroom, trying to decide what to wear for his first date with Dean. A suit was too formal for where they were going, but should he do jeans or slacks? T-shirt or button down? It was a cold day. Would a sweater look too nerdy? He had a really nice long sleeved cashmere blend that hugged his shoulders and biceps flatteringly without being uncomfortably tight, and it was a soft gray-blue that he'd been told brought out his eyes. In fact that and a pair of dark wash jeans was his go to first date outfit, and he'd taken it out of his closet twenty minutes ago before he started second guessing himself. 

The week between Christmas and New Year's had been some strange combination of heaven and hell. Castiel had lost count of the number of times he'd had to restrain himself from kissing Dean senseless in the middle of the kitchen. They'd agreed that as long as they weren't actively trying to hide it, there was no need to make an announcement, so they had no idea how many people actually knew about them. No one had said anything. 

Most importantly, Naomi hadn't said anything. It was common knowledge that she disapproved of liaisons among the staff, but she'd never gone so far as to make an official rule against it, probably because she'd have to fire half the waiters. If she decided to make an issue of it in their particular case, Castiel was certain that was a battle he could win, but he'd really rather not fight it at all, especially not when things with Dean were so new and fragile and breathtakingly wonderful. 

"Fuck it," he muttered and put on the blue sweater. It was warm and comfortable and he knew he looked damn good in it. Unfortunately pulling the sweater over his head mussed his hair which he had carefully combed as soon as he got out of the shower. It could only be tamed when it was wet, and since he'd taken twenty minutes to choose his clothes, it was now completely dry. He considered undressing long enough to stick his head under the tap, but of course that was when the doorbell rang. 

Dean. Prompt as usual. Castiel generally appreciated that in a date, but today he wished the man had been just a few minutes late. He tried to use his fingers to bring some semblance of order if not style to his hair but only succeeded in making it look like he'd run his fingers through it. He gave up and went to the door in his sock feet. 

Dean's mouth fell open as soon as Castiel opened the door. "Holy shit," he breathed. 

"Is that a good thing?" Castiel asked uncertainly. Maybe the sweater was too nerdy after all.

"It's a _very_ good thing. Fuck the Chinese, Cas. I want _you_ for lunch." 

Castiel laughed. "Come inside while I get my shoes." 

As Dean stepped over the threshold, he brought one hand out from behind his back. It held a green ceramic pot full of dirt with a cluster of spiny green leaves growing in it. The plant gave off a distinctive spicy smell that made Castiel's mouth water. "Usually I'd bring flowers," Dean said with a bashful shrug, "but I thought you'd like this better."  
  
"I do," Castiel said, taking the tiny rosemary bush and burying his nose in it for a moment. "I'll put it in the kitchen window. I can't wait to cook with it. Thank you, Dean."

He had "met" Dean's car several times now. Dean had taken to driving him home from the restaurant every night so they could have a little time to talk and just be together without anything else competing for their attention. But this was the first time he'd seen it in daylight. It — she, he mentally corrected himself — was beautiful in a way that modern cars never were. There was grace and power in every sleek line of her, and Dean took such good care of her that you would never know she was over half a century old. She was indeed a lady, dignified and timeless. 

"I saw that," Dean said. 

Castiel turned to see a twinkle in the other man's eyes that was part amusement and part something else. A soft, affectionate warmth that made Castiel's heart do a strange, fluttery dance in his chest. "What?"

"You were admiring the car, Mr. Not-A-Car-Guy. Have I converted you?" 

Castiel chuckled. "I will probably never find cars in general very interesting, but I have to admit that this particular car is a work of art. I think perhaps that's because I'm learning to see it —"

Dean opened his mouth to object, but Castiel was already correcting. 

"Her. My apologies. Force of habit. I'm seeing _her_ through your eyes. You clearly love her, and when we put love into something, it becomes more than the sum of its parts."  
  
Dean smiled and swooped in to kiss Castiel's cheek. "You are a grade A sap, you know that? I like it." 

"You never told me how you got this car," Castiel said once they were driving. "It can't have been easy to find a model this old in such good condition." 

"I, um …" Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "I actually inherited her from my dad."  
  
"Oh." _I know from bad fathers …_ "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry into a painful subject." 

"It's okay." They were stopped at a light, so Dean turned to look at Castiel and took his hand. "I'll tell you the whole story, Cas. I will. Just … not today. Okay?" 

"Okay." He squeezed Dean's hand reassuringly. "I understand. I have a story of my own, Dean, and I won't ever push. Take all the time you need." 

Dean smiled gratefully, and when the light changed, he drove one handed and continued to hold tightly to Castiel. 

They let conversation lapse for a while except for Castiel giving directions, but there was nothing uncomfortable about the silence. It occurred to Castiel that he'd never had a relationship quite like this. There was no dancing around each other, no question of if or even when. They _were_ going to have sex, and they _were_ going to talk about their respective pasts. When they were both ready. And in the meantime they could kiss and hold hands and talk about everything else or just sit in silence, enjoying each other's mere existence. It brought him a sense of peace and safety that he had never felt with a partner before, not even the ones he'd stayed with for years.

The restaurant Castiel had chosen was another of his first date standbys. It had a casual, homey atmosphere that put people at ease, but it could still be considered nice, and the food was amazing even by his exacting standards.  
  
As Dean shrugged out of his coat before sitting down, Castiel's mouth went dry. Dean had dressed casual too, brown jeans and a dark green henley that showed off his broad chest and muscular arms to perfection. 

"What?" Dean asked when he noticed Castiel staring, but his amused smirk said he already knew what. He just wanted to hear Castiel say it.

Castiel was happy to oblige. "You look pretty edible yourself." He didn't even have to try to make his voice low and seductive. Just looking at Dean in that shirt made it drop half an octave. 

Dean's cheeks flushed a little, but Castiel didn't think it was embarrassment.  
  
Dean sat down on one side of the booth. Castiel slid in next to him instead of across. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"  
  
"Yes. For once we don't have to act professional, so I will be as sappy and romantic as I like." Then, realizing that Dean might have been hinting that he was uncomfortable, he added, "Unless you'd rather I sat over there." 

Dean's hand clamped down on Castiel's knee. "Don't you dare." 

They managed to stop staring into each other's eyes long enough to look at the menu and place their orders. The waiter gave them a you're-too-adorable-for-words kind of look and made no comment.  
  
"That is one thing I love about big cities," Dean said when they were relatively alone again. "No one bats an eye at two guys obviously on a date."  
  
"Yes, it is nice," Castiel agreed. He decided to take the opportunity to segue into typical first date conversation and asked, "Where have you lived besides New York?"

Dean snorted. "It would be easier to tell you where I _haven't_ lived. It's a much shorter list. My dad was in the military, so we moved around a lot when I was a kid, and when I grew up … I don't know if I'd gotten a taste for the gypsy life or if it was just the only way I knew how to live. The older I get though, the less I like starting over. It's exhausting." 

"And lonely I imagine." He didn't really have to imagine, but he'd rather not get into that right now. 

Dean nodded. "Yeah, that too. I manage to keep in touch with a few people, but it's not the same as having friends you can actually hang out with." 

"What about your brother? Where does he live?" 

Dean suddenly went a little pale and took his hand off Castiel's knee. 

"Oh. I've strayed into sensitive territory again. It's okay. You don't have to —"

"No, I do," Dean interrupted him. "I really, really do have to, and I was going to tell you today anyway. I was just gonna wait until nearer the end of the date so it would be easier for you to … I totally get it if this scares you off —"

"Dean." Castiel wanted to reach out and take his hand, but Dean looked as tense and wary as a wild animal. "Just take a deep breath and tell me before I start imagining worst case scenarios." 

Dean laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Oh, trust me, it doesn't get much worse than this. My brother … He's in prison, Cas. For murder. And before you ask, no, he wasn't falsely convicted. He did it." 

Castiel stared at Dean open mouthed. No part of him thought that Dean would joke about something like this, but it was so unexpected that his brain needed a minute to make the right shaped space to fit the information into. Finally he said, "Okay." 

"Okay?" Dean echoed. "Like, okay, you'd like me to take you home now?" 

"No. Like, okay, thank you for telling me, now I have a few questions." He hated to draw out Dean's agony, but he needed to fully understand the situation if he was going to make the right decision.

The waiter came back with their food at that moment, and they both hastily plastered on polite smiles and thanked her, but once she was gone, they ignored the tantalizing smells rising from the dishes.  
  
"You said he was supposed to come visit you over Christmas."

"Yeah, he was up for parole, but he didn't make it."

"And when he does get out, you'll be spending time with him, helping him adjust?" 

Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Castiel held up a placating hand. 

"I'm not suggesting you shouldn't. I understand the importance of family. What I'm asking is, does his presence in your life pose any danger to Claire or myself?"

Dean dropped all defensiveness immediately. "No. No, he would never hurt you or the kid or anyone. I know that sounds weird because I just told you he killed someone, but … Look, it's a long story, and I can't tell you all of it. Not without Sam's permission. But can you trust me when I say he's not dangerous? He made a mistake that he can't ever fix, and he knows that, so he's doing everything he can to prove that he'll do better next time around. He's not a psycho."  
  
"I believe that you sincerely believe that," Castiel said levelly, "but you're his brother. I'm not sure you're the most objective judge of his character." 

Dean sagged, the last spark of hope going out of his eyes. 

Castiel instantly hated himself. He reached out and touched Dean's cheek. "Dean, I'm not breaking up with you."

Dean's head shot up. He still looked wary, but at least he looked alive again. "You're not?" 

"No. _You_ are the one I'm in a relationship with, not your brother, and _you_ I trust completely. But I need to make sure we're on the same page here. When Sam is free, I will want to meet him on neutral ground, and then I will decide if I'm comfortable allowing him near Claire. I may need more than one meeting to reach a decision, and whatever that decision is, both you and he will have to respect it. Is that clear?"

Dean nodded quickly. "Yeah. Of course, Cas. It's totally your call. You're … you're really not breaking up with me?" 

The uncertainty in his voice broke Castiel's heart, and it was suddenly a very good thing that they were sitting on the same side of the booth because it meant he barely had to move to press his lips to Dean's in a deep, warm, reassuring kiss. "If I was breaking up with you, would I do that?" he said when they parted.  
  
Dean laughed. "No, probably not." 

And just like that the tension was gone again, and they dug into their food. Dean made some very appreciative noises that had Castiel's jeans feeling just a little too tight. He retaliated with a few happy moans of his own, and then they looked at each other and giggled like children. 

"There's something I've been wondering about," Castiel said once they had settled down. "The night we met, you told me you learned to cook because of a girl you had a crush on in high school, but you've since told me that you consider yourself gay."

"Oh. Ha." Dean blushed but answered readily. "Okay, so the thing with Jo was … I was fourteen at the time. And she was more than just a pretty face. She was smart and funny and tough and did not take shit from anyone. I liked her in every possible way. Except one."

"You weren't physically attracted to her." 

"No, but I was fourteen. I'd never been physically attracted to anyone in real life. And to make things even more complicated, my dad was a raging homophobe, and I was so scared of disappointing him that I couldn't even admit to _myself_ that I might like boys."  
  
Castiel sighed. He'd done it again. "I'm sorry. I keep trying to pick a lighter topic, and I keep accidentally bringing up painful subjects." 

"It's not your fault," Dean said with a half smile. "My life is kind of made of painful subjects, and I don't want you to tiptoe around me, okay? I'll tell you when it's time to change the subject. I promise." 

"Okay. So can I ask how you finally figured it out?" 

Dean's smile widened. "How do you think? I kissed a boy and I liked it." 

Castiel laughed. "Yes, I think that pretty much sums up everyone's story. Although in my case it was a man, not a boy." 

"How old were you?" Dean asked curiously. 

"I was twenty. He was thirty five. He was one of my teachers at Cordon Bleu." 

Dean almost choked on his soda. "Cas!"

"I know," Castiel chuckled. "It was terribly reckless, and I don't know what _his_ excuse was. _I_ thought I was in love. In retrospect I was just getting my first rather belated taste of real lust. It was completely overwhelming, and I didn't know what to do with it." 

"I'm getting the impression that this didn't end well." 

"No, decidedly not. He took a job at a restaurant in London and left without even saying goodbye. I think he was disturbed by how infatuated I'd become, and he wanted to avoid the inevitable tears. He … wasn't a man who was at home with emotional outbursts."

"Still that's … that's a dick move. It wasn't your fault that you were too young and inexperienced to know the difference between sex and love. He used you and then left you to deal with the fallout. That was cruel and you deserved better." 

"I know." Castiel couldn't help smiling at the genuine indignation in Dean's voice. "It was a long time ago, Dean. I'm over it, but thank you for taking my side anyway." 

The conversation flowed easily from one topic to the next, and they didn't shy away from the heavier subjects that Castiel would generally avoid on a first date. They established that they both wanted an exclusive relationship and confirmed that they were both certified STD free. No condoms would be necessary. There was a moment of heated staring while they both contemplated all the possibilities _that_ opened up. Fortunately (or unfortunately) that was when the waiter interrupted with the check.

Castiel insisted on paying. "Technically _I_ asked _you_ out this time, _and_ I picked the place, so I should pay. You can choose the venue and foot the bill next time." The casual assumption that there would be a next time fell out of his mouth before he thought about it. 

Dean just smiled and opened his fortune cookie. "You know I've been waiting my whole life to get one that says 'Help, I'm being held prisoner in a fortune cookie factory.'"

Castiel burst out laughing. It went on so long that people at nearby tables turned to look at him. "What …" He struggled to stop laughing long enough to talk. "What would you do if you did?" 

Dean shrugged. "Don't know." He was watching Castiel laugh with the same look of warm affection he'd worn when Castiel appreciated his car, but now it was mixed with a glint of possessive pride. 

_He likes that he's the one who made me laugh like that … No, not just that,_ Castiel realized. _He likes that people are looking at us, that they know he's the one who made me laugh, that they know I'm with him and I'm happy to be with him._ The idea that someone like Dean, who could clearly have anyone he wanted, was proud to be seen with _him_ made Castiel feel about ten feet tall.

On the drive home they talked about normal first date stuff, favorite books and movies and music. They had hardly anything in common in those areas, but that didn't give Castiel the panicky this-is-not-going-well feeling that he'd so often gotten on first dates. Dean listened to him rattle on for ten minutes about the genius of Jane Austen, and he listened to Dean extol the virtues of some medical drama/soap opera unsubtly called _Dr. Sexy_. A few sticky moments aside, this was unquestionably the most fun he'd ever had on a first date. And even the sticky moments had played a part in the overall success of the afternoon. They'd actually gotten to know each other on more than just a superficial level.   
  
When they pulled up outside his building, the absolute last thing Castiel wanted to do was get out of the car and watch Dean drive away. Clearly thinking along the same lines, Dean said, "So that two dates thing you mentioned. Is that really a rule for you?" 

Castiel sighed and ignored the vote from his dick. "Yes, it is." 

"Okay. On a totally unrelated subject, can I take you out to lunch tomorrow?" 

Castiel laughed. "I wish you could, but tomorrow's Friday." 

Dean groaned. "Right. Staff meeting." Once a week the restaurant staff had a lunch meeting to go over any changes to the menu, make sure all the waiters were well versed in the specials, and address any questions or issues that applied to everyone. "I don't suppose we could count it. I mean, we'll be having lunch together in a fancy restaurant." 

"It can't be a date if Naomi is there." 

"Fair point." 

Castiel slid along the bench seat until their hips were pressed together and took Dean's hand. "Believe me, I am as eager to take this to the next level as you are, Dean. I've wanted you practically since the moment I laid eyes on you, and I'm not putting it off because I'm not sure. I just want us to have a solid foundation. One thing I learned from my first spectacular failure of a love affair was that sex is not a good place to start. It's too easy to let it become the whole focus of the relationship, and that's when people get hurt. I don't want to hurt you." 

Dean tilted his head so that it rested against Castiel's. "I know. I don't want to hurt you either. I'm sorry if I sounded pushy. I had a really good time today, and I want to do it again soon even if the next time doesn't end with sex either. I don't want you to think I'm just spending time with you to get in your pants." 

"If I still had any doubts about that, I don't after today. If all you wanted was sex, you would never have risked telling me about your brother." 

"Probably true." 

"The restaurant is closed on Monday," Castiel pointed out. "If Missouri can babysit Monday night, we can have our second date then, and that way …" He brushed his lips against Dean's but so lightly it was more a nuzzle than a kiss. "We'll have all night instead of just a couple hours before I have to pick up Claire from school. You did say you wanted to take your time." He pressed their lips together more firmly. 

Castiel had fully intended to tease Dean just like Dean had done to him, but he lost himself in the kiss for a moment, and the next thing he knew he had Dean's tongue in his mouth and a fistful of the man's shirt and they were making out like horny teenagers. Again. 

Dean regained control first, and he laughed when Castiel chased after his lips. "Whoa. Slow down there, cowboy. No sex on the first date, remember?" 

"Stupid rule," Castiel grumbled, letting his head fall onto Dean's shoulder. "Who made that stupid rule?" 

"You did, and you'll remember why as soon as you've had a minute to get the blood flowing in the right direction again." Dean pressed a chaste kiss to Castiel's temple and stroked his hair. "I want you like crazy, Cas, but I also want you to still like me after." 

Castiel smiled into Dean's shirt. His dick might be incredibly frustrated right now, but his heart had never been more content. 


	10. Chapter 10

There was a surprise waiting for him at the restaurant on Friday afternoon. 

"Anna?" 

She had her back to the door, talking to Naomi, but she turned at the sound of her name and lit up like the sun when she saw him. "Hey, chef." She had to hug him carefully because of the baby in a sling on her chest, but it was no less warm than her smile, and it made him realize how much he had missed her. Of all his coworkers, she was the one he considered closest to a friend. (Dean was in a category by himself.)

"You're not back already, are you?" Castiel asked as she released him. "It's barely been three weeks." 

"No, I'm just visiting. Actually I wanted to talk to you about that before the meeting. Castiel, I …" She rocked the sleeping baby nervously. "I don't think I'm coming back." 

"What? Why?" Much as he enjoyed working with Dean, he couldn't imagine _Paradis_ without Anna. She'd been with them since the beginning, and even though she could have had her own kitchen a dozen times over by now, she'd always insisted that she would rather be sous chef, that the stress of command would detract from her enjoyment of the cooking. But someone must have finally made her an offer she couldn't refuse. "You found another job," he said, trying not to sound too unhappy. She was talented, and she deserved a chance to spread her wings. He'd been lucky to keep her this long. Eight years was an eternity in the restaurant business. 

"Yes, in a way." She looked down at her baby, and a soft smile of pure love curved her lips. "She's my job now. I don't want to miss a second of this. Her name is Rose Marie. I wanted to name her Rosemary, but Josh thought it was too old fashioned, so we compromised, and we probably would have ended up calling her Rosie anyway." 

"She's beautiful," Castiel said sincerely. Knowing that Anna hadn't been poached by another restaurant made it much easier to be happy for her. He could understand her desire to spend every waking moment watching her daughter grow up. And then, for just a moment he couldn't see Anna and little Rosie. It was Jimmy standing in front of him, cradling tiny newborn Claire and smiling at her like he would give her every star in the sky if she asked. The memory cut into him like a shard of glass, and he missed some of what Anna was saying. 

"… And Naomi says she's willing to hire Dean permanently if you agree to it. Oh, speak of the devil." 

Castiel felt a big, warm hand on the small of his back and heard Dean exclaim, "Anna! Didn't expect you back here so soon. Come to take my job?" He said it playfully, and it was probably only because Castiel knew the real Dean, the man behind the charming mask, that he could hear the faint note of real worry in the question.  
  
"Kind of the opposite," Anna said. "We were just talking about tha—"

"Cas?" Dean suddenly cut her off, and this time he didn't bother to hide his worry. "Cas, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." 

That wasn't far from the truth, and Castiel wondered what it looked like from the outside. Was it obvious to everyone or only to Dean? Anna was also frowning at him in concern now that Dean had pointed it out. He made an effort to shake off the memories and focus on the present. "I'm fine. Anna just gave me some news that took me by surprise. She's quitting the restaurant business to be a full time mother, so the job is yours permanently. If you want it." 

Dean blinked. Then a grin spread slowly over his face. "Are you kidding? Of course I want it." 

Castiel managed a real smile of his own. "Good. It's settled then." 

The fog of melancholy lifted as quickly as it had come, replaced with a sort of giddy relief. He'd been unconsciously trying not to think about what would happen when Dean had to go looking for a new job. Of course there were lots of restaurants in New York. Odds were good that one of them would need a cook, and he was reasonably sure that Dean wouldn't just up and leave when things were going so well. But it was nice to have one less thing to worry about. He would miss Anna, but they could keep in touch, and maybe now that he wasn't her boss, they could actually be friends. 

"So he hasn't driven you crazy yet?" Anna said teasingly to Dean. 

Dean laughed. "Oh, he's driving me crazy all right. But in a good way." He settled his arm more comfortably around Castiel's waist, and Castiel automatically leaned into the embrace, heedless of Naomi's disapproving eyes watching them from the other side of the room.   
  
"Oh." Anna's eyes widened, and _she_ didn't look at all disapproving. "Really? You two are …" 

"It's a recent development," Castiel said, "but yes, we're dating." 

Gabe was going past with a tray of food at that moment, and he stopped so fast that only many years of experience saved him from spilling something. "Wait," he said in tones of confusion. "That's not a secret anymore?"  
  
Castiel frowned. "It was never a secret. You thought it was?" 

"Well, yeah. I mean, worst kept secret in the world, but you were obviously trying your best, so we took pity on you and pretended not to notice." 

"Oh, for … We were _trying_ to be professional, not secretive."

"We were actually deliberately _not_ trying to be secretive," Dean put in. "We were starting to think you were all incredibly oblivious." 

"So we can stop pretending?" 

"Yes," Dean and Castiel said in unison. 

"Oh, thank God." Gabe somehow managed to theatrically sag with relief while still holding his tray perfectly steady. "If I had to spend one more night trying to keep a straight face while you two eye fucked each other from across the kitchen, I was gonna quit." 

Castiel tried to glare sternly at Gabe, but it was difficult with Dean shaking with laughter beside him. 

"If you aren't having too much fun over there," Naomi called peevishly, "perhaps we could begin the meeting." 

There was a semi-official seating order at staff lunches. Naomi sat at one head of the table and Castiel at the other, though this had less to do with restaurant hierarchy and more to do with keeping a safe distance between them in case an argument broke out as it always did sooner or later. The seat to Castiel's immediate right was reserved for the sous chef, and everyone else sat wherever they liked. (There was always a discrete race to get the seats farther away from Naomi, but despite Castiel's own fearsome reputation, no one seemed to mind sitting at his end of the table. If Naomi had ever noticed this, she made no comment.) Today Anna happily relinquished her favored place to Dean and sat between two of the waitresses who were delighted at the opportunity to coo over the baby. 

Naomi caught Castiel's eye and tipped her head questioningly towards Dean. Castiel nodded, confirming that everyone was in agreement on this.  
  
Naomi didn't need to call for their attention. She always had it like the cat has the attention of the mouse. She began speaking and everyone else fell silent. "Before we begin, I have a short announcement to make. I'm sorry to say that Anna will not be returning at the end of this month as we expected. She has found her calling elsewhere, and I'm sure you'll all join me in wishing her well. Fortunately Dean has agreed to stay on permanently in the position of sous chef, so this should cause no disruption, and our service will remain up to the high standard our customers have come to expect."

She was looking rather pointedly at Castiel as she said that last part. He, equally pointedly, put his hand over Dean's on the table in plain view and lightly caressed Dean's knuckles with his thumb. The quality of their work hadn't suffered in the slightest since their relationship changed. She couldn't use that as an excuse to come between them whatever her personal opinions about workplace romance. 

The reaction around the table was predictable — surprise and a little sadness, but everyone was pleased that Dean would be staying. They congratulated him and made Anna promise to visit occasionally. Then the food was passed around, and they moved on to the usual business. 

The food served at staff meetings had no relation to the restaurant's menu. The kitchen staff took turns catering, and whoever drew the short straw that week cooked whatever they liked. This week it was Benjamin's famous ropa vieja with huge mounds of white rice and fried plantains. Leftovers were looking increasingly unlikely by the minute. 

An hour later the business part of the meeting was concluded and everyone was chatting while they polished off the last of the food. Little Rosie was being passed from one pair of arms to another, the female staff, and some of the men too, bickering good naturedly over who would get the privilege of holding her next. 

"Chef? Want a turn?" 

Castiel looked up from a quiet conversation with Dean about which movie they should go see Monday night. "What?"  
  
Anna was standing next to him, offering him the baby. "Would you like to hold her?" 

"Oh. N-no, that's all right." There was no way he could hold Rosie without thinking of Claire and Jimmy, and if it hurt as bad as it had before … 

Misinterpreting the cause of his panic, Anna said with gentle amusement, "You won't break her. Here, I'll show you how." 

He stood up so fast he bumped the table, making the dishes rattle, mumbled something about the bathroom and fled. He heard laughter behind him, but he didn't care. Let them think it was a silly male phobia of babies. He wished it was that simple. 

He didn't go to the bathroom. Instead he headed through the empty kitchen to the big fridge, his sanctuary on busy nights when Naomi was getting on his nerves even more than usual and he needed to clear his head before he bit off someone else's. It felt colder when he wasn't coming from the heat of a kitchen in full dinner rush mode and wasn't wearing his chef's coat. He hugged his arms around himself and took deep breaths, trying to calm down, but the lump in his throat only seemed to get bigger. What was wrong with him today? He'd been doing so well, facing the memories a little bit at a time. Why did this one hurt so much more? 

The door opened, and Castiel prepared to snap at whoever it was to go away. It was Dean. He took one look at Castiel and wordlessly put his arms around him while the door swung shut on its own. 

Castiel buried his face in Dean's shoulder, burrowed into the warmth of him, and sobbed. Dean still didn't say anything, didn't ask questions or offer meaningless words of comfort. He just held Castiel as tightly as he could without hurting him, and somewhere in the maelstrom of grief and pain and confusion, part of Castiel wistfully wondered if this was what it felt like to be loved.  
  
After what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, his body reached the limit of its ability to continuously produce tears, but he continued to cling to Dean, his breath hitching a little in his chest.

"Is this about Anna leaving?" Dean asked as his fingers carded soothingly through Castiel's hair. 

"No." His mouth felt sticky and strange. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried that hard. Maybe after he broke up with Bart, but that had been a quiet, reflexive sort of sadness that had more to do with wasting two years of his life on a man who would never love anything as much as he loved the sound of his own voice, and once he'd gone through the usual post break up rituals — cry, eat comfort food, burn all the cheating bastard's stuff — he'd felt better. He didn't feel better now. He felt like Dean's arms were the only thing keeping him together and without them he'd shatter into a million screaming pieces. 

"Do you want to tell me what it _is_ about?" Dean wasn't nudging. He was really asking what Castiel wanted to do, and that made Castiel want to tell him. 

"It's hard to explain. I'm not sure I understand it myself. It's just … For some reason seeing Anna with her baby makes me think of Jimmy, of how much he loved Claire, and of all the things he won't get to see. Her first crush, her first first date, her graduation, her wedding. It's … It's so unfair." His voice broke on the last word, and a few more tears leaked out, but he was still mostly dried up.  
  
"Yeah, it is," Dean said. He didn't add that life wasn't fair. It wasn't even implied. He just acknowledged that Castiel was right and then fell silent again, waiting to see if Castiel had more to say. 

"I'm angry at him," Castiel whispered, admitting it to himself for the first time. "I'm angry at him for leaving me to raise Claire all by myself, and I feel guilty for being angry because it wasn't his fault, and I know he would never have chosen to leave her, not like —"

 _Not like our mother chose to leave us, chose it long before she actually died._ He decided not to say that part. One trauma at a time. 

"And at work I have to be professional, and at home I have to keep it together for Claire's sake, and by the time I have a minute to myself I'm too tired to do anything but sleep. I'm just so tired all the time." The words poured out just like the tears, raw and uncontrollable.  
  
"Oh, baby," Dean murmured into his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you're hurting. I wish I could make it better." 

"But you do." Castiel lifted his head to look at Dean. "You being here makes it better. I only feel like myself when I'm with you. I think —" 

He stopped again, but this time it wasn't because the words teetering on the tip of his tongue were too painful. They were bright and beautiful and wonderful and terrifying and much, much too soon. He kissed Dean, fierce and hungry and demanding, because it was the only way to stop himself from blurting out those dangerous words. 

_I think I'm falling in love with you._


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Minor references to child abuse and self harm, but it's very brief and definitely not the main focus of the chapter. Also, take note of the rating change. This chapter is extremely NSFW.
> 
> Thank you to EyumdaRelmera for sending me a hilarious Tumblr post that inspired part of this chapter, though probably not in the way she expected. =)

They didn't stay out late Monday night. By the time they left the theater they were both buzzing with anticipation, and one look dispelled any thoughts of stopping somewhere for dinner. They drove back to Castiel's place in silence, Dean's free hand stroking Castiel's thigh almost absentmindedly, always stopping just short of actual groping. 

Missouri looked up from her knitting as they came through the door. "You're early. How was the movie?" 

"It was … good." Castiel felt his cheeks warm under her knowing gaze. Truthfully he couldn't have explained the plot if his life depended on it. They hadn't fooled around in the dark theater, hadn't even kissed, but about halfway through the previews Dean had put his head on Castiel's shoulder, and after that it was all a happy blur. He'd never thought of cuddling as a form of foreplay, but the citrus scent of Dean's shampoo and the warm, reassuring weight of the other man overwhelmed his senses as thoroughly as a passionate kiss. "Is Claire asleep?" 

Missouri's look got even more knowing. "Uh huh. She was a darling as always. I'll get out of your hair now so you can enjoy the rest of your evening." 

Castiel's face was burning now. He wasn't the least bit ashamed of what he and Dean were obviously planning to do as soon as they were alone, but no one wanted their grandmother to know the intimate details of their love life. "Thank you, Missouri. We'll see you tomorrow night." 

On her way to the door she patted Dean's arm and murmured something Castiel couldn't quite make out. He gave Dean a questioning look as the door closed behind her. Dean shrugged, his own cheeks more than a little pink too. "She said, 'You be good to him. He's a keeper.' I think it was her version of the hurt-him-and-I'll-kill-you speech." 

"I wouldn't put it past her," Castiel said with a smile. "And she'd get away with it too. Who would suspect a harmless old lady?" 

"Mmm." Dean stepped in close and slipped an arm around Castiel's waist. "Good thing I'm not planning to hurt you then." 

Castiel looked into those green eyes and saw absolute honesty, and he suddenly felt warm for a very different reason. He put his arms around Dean's neck and drew the man into a kiss. There was no teasing this time, and if Dean had been a good kisser before, it was nothing compared to the way he kissed when he wasn't holding back. _This_ was hands down the best kiss Castiel had ever had in his life. It aroused him and calmed him simultaneously. He felt light and free but also grounded and safe. Any first time nerves he had still been harboring disappeared, and he knew that he would give himself to Dean completely and without hesitation, body and soul, secrets and scars. Dean would never hurt him. Dean would only make it better. 

Breaking away from the kiss was the last thing he wanted to do, but there was one thing that could override lust every time and that was the need of a parent to see with their own eyes that their child was safe. "I should check on Claire," he said breathlessly. "Make sure she's actually asleep and not waiting up for me. Um … My bedroom is the first door on the right." 

Dean nodded and kissed him on the forehead. "Don't take too long," he said teasingly. "I might start without you." 

Castiel's brain short circuited for a moment from that mental image, and Dean laughed at the look on his face and shoved him gently toward Claire's room. 

Claire was sleeping deeply, her nose buried in the threadbare fur of her stuffed cat, inhaling the comfort of its familiar scent. Castiel brushed her hair off her face and kissed her cheek, praying that there would be no bad dreams tonight for both their sakes. 

Dean was sitting on the foot of Castiel's bed. He had taken off his shoes but nothing else. "Good," Castiel said, locking the door behind him just in case. "I've been waiting weeks for a chance to undress you with more than just my eyes." 

Dean smirked. "Yeah, I had a feeling you'd want to do that part. One question before I forget. How quiet do we need to be?"  
  
"As long as we're not yelling at the top of our lungs, we should be fine. This building has thick walls, and she's a deep sleeper unless she has a nightmare." Castiel toed out of his shoes and socks and approached the bed. 

Dean's eyes tracked his every move, pupils already dilated. They came to rest on Castiel's face as Castiel knelt between Dean's knees and ran his hands reverently up those long, strong legs. When he reached Dean's hips, he let his fingers dip tentatively under the hem of his shirt, watching Dean's face for any sign of nervousness or hesitation. For some people being naked was no big deal, and for others it was the biggest hurdle in a new relationship. Dean gave a slight nod and lifted his arms to let Castiel pull the shirt up and off. 

Dean had a tattoo. That was the first thing Castiel noticed. A five point star in a ring of flames just below his left collarbone. Castiel had never had a tattoo kink, or at least he hadn't thought he did, but his rapidly swelling cock definitely twitched at the sight of that ink under Dean's skin. "Souvenir of a misspent youth?" he asked, tracing it with his fingertip. 

"Something like that," Dean chuckled, but even though he didn't tense up or pull away, Castiel could tell that this, like the car, was a story Dean wasn't ready to tell. So he kissed the tattoo worshipfully, and then he moved on down the hard, muscled planes of Dean's chest. 

When he drew a nipple into his mouth, Dean groaned. He experimentally bit it a little harder, and Dean convulsed, pushing his chest into Castiel's face and tangling his fingers in Castiel's hair, an inarticulate moaning whine issuing from his throat. Castiel grinned. He had found his first sweet spot, and he hoarded the information greedily, determined to learn every inch of Dean's body by heart until he could reduce the man to a moaning, writhing, needy mess in seconds if he wanted to. 

He spent some time on each nipple, and when they were both reddened and sensitized enough that it was toeing the line between pleasure and pain, he trailed sloppy, open mouthed kisses down Dean's stomach. Despite his impressive upper body strength, the man had a little bit of pudge. He wasn't fat by any means, but he clearly indulged in the sensual pleasure of food, unsurprising given his chosen profession, and wasn't so vain as to worry about a couple extra pounds if they weren't dangerous to his health. Castiel pressed his face into the soft layer of pillowy comfort over the hard muscle. Another kink he hadn't known he had until that moment, or maybe it was just that everything about Dean was a turn on by association. 

"Lie back," he said as he began unbuttoning Dean's jeans. 

Dean obeyed, folding his hands behind his head and stretching out on Castiel's bed like he belonged nowhere else. That snapped the last tenuous thread of Castiel's self control, and he suddenly _needed_ to have Dean naked in his bed five fucking minutes ago. He yanked off Dean's jeans and boxers in one move, threw them aside as though they offended him, and without further preamble took Dean's fully erect cock in his mouth.  
  
"Fuck," Dean gasped, and his hips twitched under Castiel's restraining hands. 

Castiel breathed through his nose, relaxed his throat, and went as deep as he could. God, it had been way too long since he'd done this. He'd forgotten how much he liked it. Dean liked it too judging by the litany of "fuck" and "Cas" and "so good" coming from above Castiel's head. He looked up through his lashes, but Dean wasn't watching him. His head was tipped back into the mattress, the thick column of his throat working furiously as he gasped for air, his hands fisting the blankets under him, completely lost in the pleasure Castiel was giving him. 

Castiel's own raging erection, still trapped in his jeans, gave a warning throb. This was going to send him over the edge just as fast as it was sending Dean. He pulled off but stayed close, laying soft, reassuring kisses on the insides of Dean's thighs until the other man came down enough to raise his head and look at Castiel with a mixture of frustrated confusion and awe. 

"That was going to be over way too fast for my liking," Castiel explained. 

Dean huffed with equal parts amusement and embarrassment. "Well, it ain't my fault you give the best blowjob in the history of blowjobs. How's a guy supposed to control himself while you're sucking his brains out like that?" 

"Quite understandable," Castiel said smugly. "Which is why we're going to save that for another time." He was long past worrying about assumptions. They both knew that one time wouldn't be enough. He placed one last kiss on Dean's stomach, right beside his wet cock, then stood up and reached for the collar of his own shirt, preparing to pull it over his head. 

Dean suddenly sat up and caught his hands. "Hey. Fair's fair. It's my turn." 

Castiel smiled and let Dean undress him. He didn't look away when Dean discovered the tiny, perfectly round scars of cigarette burns on his chest and stomach, the layered scars on his thighs made by his own hand in his dark teenage years. He had long ago come to terms with these things. They weren't pretty, but they didn't make him ugly either. They were only a small part of him, and they didn't define how he saw himself. He wouldn't let them. Besides, he already knew Dean wouldn't care. 

Calloused fingertips skimmed gently over the scars, and something sad crossed Dean's face for a moment, but it wasn't pity, and when he kissed Castiel, he didn't do it carefully as though Castiel was fragile and needed Dean's protection. He kissed him like an equal, like a lover, giving and taking at the same time. 

Suddenly Castiel's feet left the floor and he was tossed bodily onto the bed. He barely had time to recover from the shock (and overwhelming hotness) of being picked up and thrown as if he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes before Dean was crawling up the bed towards him, practically stalking him. "I believe," Dean purred darkly right next to his ear, "I promised to make you beg. And you should know I'm a man of my word."

"Go on then," Castiel said, a calculated challenge in his tone. "Give it your best shot." 

Dean pulled back and looked at him, his gaze scorching hot and hungry. Castiel wanted to start begging right then, but he kept his cool, at least on the outside. "Lube?" Dean said.  
  
"Bedside table drawer." 

Dean retrieved it, then came back to kneel between Castiel's legs. It was not lost on Castiel that their positions had completely reversed. "Do you have a preference?" 

He shrugged as best he could in his prone position. "Not with you. I trust you." He'd had a few boyfriends who he would allow to fuck him only when hell froze over. Patience wasn't just a virtue in a top. It was a necessity. At least it was if you wanted both parties to actually enjoy the experience.  
  
Dean grinned, poured some lube onto his hand, and reached behind himself. 

"Your preference?" Castiel asked, doing his best to ignore the way his cock literally ached to be inside Dean right _now_. 

"It is tonight. I'm still way too close thanks to your un-fucking-believable mouth. I'll last longer this way." 

"Want a hand?" Castiel's hands were already running up Dean's thighs, reaching around to his ass, but Dean chuckled and shuffled backwards so he was just out of reach.  
  
"Uh uh. You just lie there and look pretty. I'll do all the work." 

He took his time just like he'd said he would, but Castiel had thought that would at least involve some touching. Dean didn't even touch himself. His erection wilted a little as he concentrated on stretching and relaxing, but he did nothing to reawaken it. Castiel was granted no such reprieve. He remained insistently hard the entire time. 

Finally Dean pulled his fingers out, added a little more lube to them, and took Castiel in hand. The contact after going untouched for so long was electric. He couldn't have controlled his reaction if he'd tried. His ass left the bed as he thrust up into Dean's slick fingers. They were hot from being deep inside Dean's body where Castiel so desperately needed to be. "Please. Oh, fuck. Please, Dean." Later he would be duly impressed that Dean had indeed made him beg and had done it with just one touch. Right now complex thoughts like that were a bit beyond him.

"There you are," Dean murmured as he maneuvered into position straddling Castiel's hips. When he began to sink down, still going maddeningly slowly, Castiel lost any semblance of coherent thought. It seemed to take a decade to get all the way in, and nothing existed but that hot, tight hole swallowing him one torturous inch at a time. He knew when he grazed Dean's prostate because every muscle in Dean's body relaxed, and he slid the rest of the way in like a key fitting to a lock, like coming home at the end of a long night and breathing a sigh of relief that he could finally just be.

Dean didn't try to move right away. He just sat there on Castiel's cock, and Castiel rubbed his thighs, soothing the muscles which must already be aching from this position. They stared into each other's eyes for long minutes, reveling in the closeness, no clothes, no condoms, no need to act professional. 

"Cas," Dean whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek. 

"Dean." Castiel turned his face into the touch. "God, you feel … perfect." 

"So do you. Haven't even come yet and this is already the best sex I ever had." 

Castiel laughed, and Dean shuddered and moaned. 

"Oh, fuck, that feels amazing. I could feel that inside me. I'm always gonna make you laugh when you're fucking me." 

That made Castiel laugh again. "Yeah? Gonna tell me knock knock jokes in bed?" 

"Uh huh. Dirty knock knock jokes. Knock knock." 

"Who's there?" Castiel played along even though his cock felt like it might explode if he didn't move soon.

"A guy who really needs to get fucked right fucking _now_." 

He would have laughed except Dean punctuated the last word with a roll of his hips and a hard clench, and all he could do was moan, "Dean." 

Dean lifted up and slammed back down, hard and fast. Clearly he was done playing around. Castiel could get on board with that. On the next thrust, he lifted his hips to meet Dean halfway, and he must have hit the sweet spot if the noise Dean made was anything to go by. Using those noises as a guide, he found an angle that let him hit that spot almost every time. 

Dean's hands were braced on Castiel's chest, pressing down so hard they might leave marks. Oh, he hoped so. He wished he could stay inside Dean forever, but eventually a warning tightness in his balls and a building pressure in his gut reminded him why that wasn't an option. Dean was close too, his cock leaking a steady stream of pre-come and twitching violently with every touch to his prostate. "Are you ready to come for me, Dean?" Castiel panted. "Do you need me to touch you?" 

Dean shook his head and a few drops of sweat fell on Castiel's lips. He licked them away, and Dean's glazed eyes followed the tip of his tongue. Even consumed with his own pleasure, Dean was still focused on him, completely there with him. 

"No?" Castiel prompted. "You think you can come on just my cock?" 

"Yeah. So … uhhh, so close." Dean's rhythm faltered.  
  
"Show me," Castiel breathed, completely mesmerized by the man above him. "Let me see you come, Dean." He fucked up into Dean a little harder to compensate for the other man's loss of muscle control. 

Dean gave one last broken groan and spilled all over both of them. Castiel joined him seconds later, but his own orgasm was almost secondary to the pleasure of watching Dean fall apart because of him. 

When Castiel came down, it was to Dean's lips already moving on his in a sweet afterglow kiss. He was more than happy to join in. Through a team effort they managed to get cleaned up and under the blankets without leaving each other's arms and seamlessly transitioned from sex to snuggling. 

"I'm a little surprised," Dean said after a while. 

With a tremendous effort, Castiel lifted his head and frowned at Dean accusingly. 

"Not because it was good," Dean hurried to reassure him. "I knew that if you were even half as good at sex as you are at kissing, it was gonna make my top three, and did I mention best sex of my life?" 

Castiel laughed and let himself sink back into the lazy stupor that always followed a really satisfying orgasm. "So what surprised you?"

"That you let me take control like that. I guess I thought you'd be more …" 

"Dominant? Because of the way I am in the kitchen?" It wasn't the first time someone had made that assumption. 

Dean must have heard the faint tone of annoyance because he quickly backtracked again. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm an idiot sometimes. Can we just pretend I didn't say anything?" 

"No." Castiel pushed himself up on his arm and looked at Dean. There was that animal wariness again. He really didn't like that look. He wanted to know who had taught Dean to be so scared of conflict, and then he wanted to give that person a punch in the face. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you," he said, stroking Dean's cheek and immediately feeling the other man relax again. "In fact I'm glad you brought it up because it's a conversation we probably should have had before this, but better late than never. Dean, I can …" 

He paused, considering the best way to phrase this so it couldn't be misunderstood. Finally he said, "I can be more dominant if that's something you like. I draw the line at actually hurting you, but short of that I'll do anything that makes you feel good, and I will never judge you or lose respect for you because of your sexual preferences. But you should know that for myself I don't find power games at all arousing. At work I may be your superior, but everywhere else we are equals, and especially in this bed. I have absolutely no desire to dominate you. I just want to be allowed to touch you. And I don't want you to call me sir. I just want to hear you say my name." 

"Cas," Dean obligingly whispered, his eyes darkening with renewed arousal.  
  
"Mmm, yes. Just like that," Castiel purred and kissed the word from Dean's mouth. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Discussion of homophobia and oblique references to child abuse and self harm.

He woke up alone, but before he could panic he caught the scent of coffee and … pancakes? Yes, definitely pancakes. Castiel smiled into the pillow and stretched, sheets slithering luxuriously over his naked back. Technically since they'd spent the night at his place, the morning-after-breakfast should have been his responsibility, but if Dean wanted to cook for him, he certainly wasn't going to complain. 

Unfortunately it was a weekday and he had to make sure Claire got to school on time, so he could only laze around in bed for a few minutes, but as he got up and dressed, tossing last night's haphazardly discarded clothes in the hamper while he was at it, he found himself feeling much more alert and cheerful than he usually did before caffeine. Even the soreness in his muscles made him smile. Fuck, that had been the most amazing night of his life. It had been a while, true, but still he was pretty sure sex hadn't always been like _that_. 

Claire's bed was empty, so he followed the delicious smells and the low rumble of Dean's voice to the kitchen where he found … A dream come true. Dean was standing at the stove, barefoot and unshaven, and even in the weak wintry sunlight struggling through the window he looked unfairly beautiful. Claire was kneeling on a chair beside him, and he was teaching her how to flip a pancake.  
  
"Slide it under nice and gentle. That's it. Now lift up and quickly turn the whole thing upside down. Perfect!" 

"Good morning," Castiel said. 

They turned, both grinning. Claire pointed to the perfectly flipped pancake, then pointed to herself. 

"I saw. It's beautiful, and I bet it tastes as good as it looks." He ruffled her hair and gave Dean a good morning kiss. "Mmm. Speaking of things that taste as good as they look," he murmured as they parted. 

Dean laughed. "Coffee?"  
  
"Yes, please. Although I don't need it as desperately as I usually do. For some reason I woke up feeling incredibly well rested." 

"Yeah, me too. I wonder why that could be," Dean teased back, his eyes sparkling. "You can put that one on the plate now," he added to Claire, "and pour on another scoop of batter like I showed you. Remember to wait for the bubbles before you try to flip it." 

She followed his instructions with the care and focus of someone who took their job very seriously. 

"I hope I didn't overstep," Dean said quietly, keeping one eye on Claire and the pancakes while he poured Castiel a cup of coffee. "She wandered in while I was mixing up the batter, and I figured I'd keep her entertained so you could sleep a little longer." 

Castiel tilted his head and gave Dean a bemused look. "Of course it's all right. Dean, you made breakfast _and_ you made her smile. Exactly which part of that did you think would upset me?"  
  
Dean smiled sheepishly. "Well, when you put it like that." 

The pancakes were good even if some of them were oddly shaped and a little burnt around the edges. Dean took Castiel's hand where it rested invitingly between their plates and stroked the back with his thumb. Castiel darted a glance at Claire, gaging her reaction. She'd accepted the idea of him having a boyfriend very easily in theory, but when it came to actually sharing his attention she might feel differently. However she was currently devouring her handiwork and seemed completely oblivious to what the adults were doing. Castiel decided to take that as a good sign.

"You won't take off while I'm gone, will you?" he asked while he was waiting for Claire to get her school bag. He tried to make it sound teasing and failed utterly.

"Oh, you ain't getting rid of me that easy," Dean said, drawing Castiel close and nuzzling his cheek. "I didn't get to do even a quarter of the things I want to do to you yet." 

The dark promise in his voice sent a shiver of desire up Castiel's spine. He turned his head and captured Dean's lips, tasting coffee and maple syrup. Dean groaned softly and pushed his tongue deep into Castiel's mouth. Heat raced through him, every nerve humming with pleasure. Clearly the sex hadn't diminished their attraction in the slightest. Quite the opposite. 

When they broke for air, Claire was standing in the kitchen door, watching them with the enigmatic expression that little kids did so well. Castiel jumped a little. He hadn't heard her, though that probably had less to do with her being quiet and more to do with his attention being fully occupied. He cleared his throat. "Are you ready to go?" 

She nodded. 

He got his coat on, pecked Dean on the cheek just because he could, and they were halfway out the door when Claire suddenly darted back inside and hugged Dean tightly around the waist. 

Dean looked surprised, but he hugged her back and said, "Have a good day at school, kiddo." 

She let him go, pointed at him, then pointed emphatically at the floor. 

"She wants to know if you'll still be here when she gets home," Castiel translated, though from the forcefulness of her gestures he suspected it had been more an order than a question. He gave Dean a nod behind her back. 

"Yeah, sure I will," Dean said. 

She hugged him again, then followed Castiel out the door, still smiling. 

The school was easy walking distance from his apartment, and it was a morning ritual that Castiel had actually become quite fond of. The exercise woke him up, and he liked the feeling of her warm little hand in his, trusting and safe. They usually walked in silence, but today he said, "You really like cooking, huh?" 

She looked up at him and nodded. 

"Would you like to help me in the kitchen more often? Maybe we could make cookies this weekend." 

He was rewarded with the most brilliant smile he'd gotten out of her yet. Then she abruptly stopped walking, pulled her hand out of his, and dug in her pocket for her notepad and pencil. She'd taken to carrying them everywhere with her, but she still only used writing when she had a question she couldn't figure out how to mime. Such as, _Wil Deen make cookis with us too?_

Castiel smiled. "I'm sure he will if we ask him very nicely." 

~o0o~

This time Castiel didn't let up until he had Dean coming in his mouth and screaming, "Cas, Cas, _Cas!_ " He swallowed as much as he could, licked up what escaped, then painted Dean's chest with his own release while the other man gazed up at him like Castiel was the sex god here, like _he_ was the most beautiful thing that had ever existed. 

"Where have you been all my life?" Dean groaned as Castiel collapsed beside him. "I had no idea sex could be this good." 

"Neither did I," Castiel chuckled. His ears were still ringing, and his own voice sounded a little muffled. "I propose we stay right here for the rest of the day and see just how good it can get." 

"I second that." 

They stirred themselves enough to clean up, then snuggled up under the blankets and kissed lazily for a while, hands exploring each other's bodies, learning every sharp, masculine line and finding the soft, sensitive places that even the toughest man had. They were in no hurry to get to round two (or four if you were counting from last night). This quiet in between time was just as intimate and just as enjoyable. 

"I told Sam about you," Dean said out of the blue. "Not your name or anything, but I told him I was seeing someone and it was serious." 

"I don't mind if you tell him my name," Castiel said. "Does he know it's a man you're dating?" 

"Yeah. He was actually the first person I ever came out to, and he's always been really supportive. I don't think I could have handled all the shit if I hadn't had Sammy on my side. Especially my dad's reaction. He hit the roof, tried to kick me out, but Sam said that if I had to leave, then he was going with me, and Dad could either take both of us as we were or lose us both." 

Castiel blinked. "That was very brave." He began to get an inkling of why Dean had stood by his brother so loyally even after what most people would consider an unforgivable act. "My brother —" He bit his tongue, but then decided to let the traitorous words out. They had been eating at him for weeks, and if anyone would listen without judging, it was Dean. "Jimmy wasn't supportive. He wasn't mean about it. He just made it clear that my love life was my own business and he didn't want to hear about it or meet any of my boyfriends, no matter how serious it was. He'd probably be furious with me for letting you into Claire's life, kissing you right in front of her and teaching her that it's not wrong." 

"Was it a religious issue," Dean asked, "or just his own personal feelings?"

"Sort of both. Jimmy and I … We didn't have a happy childhood, and we both had our coping mechanisms, some healthier than others." 

Dean's fingers traced the scars on Castiel's legs, but he didn't interrupt. 

"Jimmy's was religion, and it worked for him for a long time. After Claire's mother died though, he stopped going to church. He said God either didn't exist or didn't care, so prayer was a waste of breath. But I guess some beliefs were too deeply ingrained, and this … It disgusted him. We avoided the subject as much as possible."

"But he still gave you guardianship of Claire," Dean said quietly.

"He didn't have many choices. I was his only living family, and he knew from personal experience how fucked up the foster system is. Even if I don't raise her exactly the way he would have, at least I love her like she was my own. That's the most important thing. Or so I keep telling myself." Castiel cuddled closer to Dean, silently requesting a change of subject. 

Dean was happy to oblige, and together they chased away the gloomy mood that had crept into the room. 

~o0o~

Getting called into Naomi's office was always worrying. Naomi being nice was even more so. 

"Have a seat," she said, gesturing to the couch rather than the more formal and less comfortable chair in front of the desk. "Would you like tea?" 

"Um, okay." Castiel was suspicious, but he was reasonably sure she wouldn't poison him. 

She put a tea bag in a mug and poured water from her electric kettle. "So," she said, handing him the steaming cup and sitting beside him. "You and Dean." 

Castiel sighed. "Me and Dean." He'd guessed that was going to be the topic of this conversation, but he'd hoped he was wrong, particularly since only he had been called onto the carpet and not Dean. He would have felt much more confident with Dean's warm, reassuring presence at his side, but he wasn't going to show weakness by calling for backup. "There's no rule against it," he said, trying not to sound too defensive, "and our behavior has been nothing but professional during work hours. What we do in our free time is none of your business." 

"Castiel," Naomi said exasperatedly. "Why are you so determined to cast me as the villain?" 

He raised an eyebrow. "So you _don't_ object to me sleeping with Dean?" 

"Not in the way you think, but it does worry me. I don't want to see you hurt." 

The absurdity of that made Castiel snort with laughter and almost choke on his tea. "Dean isn't going to hurt me. He …" _Loves me?_ He wasn't sure of that yet, but the way Dean looked at him while they were making love, the way he held him when Castiel was breaking down and didn't even ask why, the secrets they'd shared … This _wasn't_ a fling. 

Naomi's expression was sympathetic which was even more unnerving than the politeness. "Maybe not on purpose, but I've known men like him before. They have short attention spans. When the next fascinating new thing comes along …" 

"Dean isn't like that." Castiel stood up and put some distance between himself and her insidious words. He understood now why he'd been called in here alone. She was going to try to turn him against Dean since she couldn't forbid them from seeing each other. "He's a good man."

"Castiel, I understand how you feel." Naomi leaned forward earnestly. "Believe it or not, I've had a whirlwind romance or two in my life. I know how thrilling it is to catch the eye of a handsome, charming man. He makes you feel special, attractive, wanted. Of course you don't want to see his flaws." 

Castiel put his teacup down on the desk, splashing a few drops on Naomi's papers because his hands were shaking. "So you think I'm a child?" he said coldly. "Ruled by my hormones? Or worse, you think I'm so insecure that I'll jump into bed with any man who shows the slightest interest in me? You have no idea what he makes me feel." 

Recognizing that she'd pushed him too far, Naomi held up her hands in surrender. "Perhaps not. And perhaps it is, as you said, none of my business. But may I show you something before you dismiss my opinions entirely?" 

"Show me what?" he snapped. 

She opened her filing cabinet and took out a sheaf of papers stapled together. He took them warily. It was Dean's resume. It was long, but that wasn't unusual for a chef. Restaurants came and went like mayflies. 

"Look at the dates. Not all those restaurants went out of business, and as far as I can tell he's never been fired. Everyone gives him glowing references, but he's never stayed anywhere longer than two years." 

"The gypsy life," Castiel muttered under his breath. But Dean had told him about that, and he'd said he was tired of it. He'd said this thing between them was serious. "If you think he has commitment issues," Castiel said louder, "why did you agree to hire him permanently?" 

Naomi's look was treading the line between sympathy and pity this time. "You and I both know that permanent doesn't mean the same thing in this business as it does in the normal world. I don't think he'd leave without giving notice and giving us a chance to find a replacement. But a sous chef is easier to replace than a lover. Just … think about this carefully, Castiel. Like I said, I'd hate to see you get hurt." 

He nodded. "Thank you for your concern, but I can manage my love life perfectly well on my own. If there's nothing else, I should get back to work now." 


	13. Chapter 13

The irony of it was that Naomi's meddling actually did more to put him off his game than his attraction to Dean ever had. As the night went on, he was distracted, short tempered, and worst of all, clumsy. He dropped a plate, an empty one thankfully, and burned his wrist stirring a sauce a little too vigorously in a futile attempt to alleviate his anger and frustration. 

"Shit." He grabbed a towel and swiped at the drop of molten lava that was eating its way through layers of skin. It was far from the worst injury he'd ever gotten on the job, but he wasn't in a glass-half-full kind of mood. 

"Cas, you okay?" Dean reached for his hand, trying to assess how much medical attention was required. Normally the concern would have made Castiel's heart do some pretty interesting acrobatics. And it did, but tonight he couldn't enjoy it. He wasn't mad at Dean. If his anger was directed at anyone, it was Naomi. But when Castiel was angry, he tended to revert to his teenage self which was twice as prickly as a cactus. 

"I'm fine," he said, snatching his hand away. "Make sure that sauce doesn't scorch." He went over to the sinks to run cold water on the burn. He could feel Dean's eyes following him, still concerned but also a little hurt now, and that made him even angrier at Naomi and at himself. And of course she chose that moment to poke her head into the kitchen and say the very last thing he wanted to hear.  
  
"Castiel, the McLeods —"

"No! Absolutely not!" 

There was some laughter hidden under the cacophony of the kitchen. 

"Castiel," she tried again in her best I'm-trying-to-be-nice-but-this-isn't-a-request tone. 

"I said no! Fire me if you want to, but I am not going out there, and you can't make me." 

He slowly became aware that the noise level in the kitchen had dropped by several decibels, and Naomi wasn't the only one looking at him. Okay, that might have been a slight overreaction, not to mention childish. 

He carefully avoided looking at Dean as he said with forced calm, "I apologize for shouting, but you really don't want me anywhere near the customers tonight. Especially not the McLeods." He had a hard time being civil to them even when he wasn't a raw bundle of nerves. 

"No, I don't think I do," Naomi agreed frigidly. "I'll tell them you're busy." 

The kitchen stuttered back to life as she left, everyone skirting warily around Castiel and avoiding his eyes. Everyone except Dean. He marched right up to the chef, took him gently but firmly by the elbow, and steered him towards the fridge. Castiel didn't protest. The cold air was heavenly on his burning face and stinging wrist. 

"Okay, what is up with you tonight?" Dean said once they were alone. "Is this about us? Are you freaking out because I said it was serious?"  
  
"No," Castiel said quickly. Then he realized that that wasn't completely true. "Well, not exactly. It's … It's not you. It's Naomi." 

Dean frowned in confusion. "Naomi? What does she have to do with it?" And then Castiel could almost hear it click into place. "Oh. Did she … Cas, did she tell you to break up with me?" 

"Not in so many words, but that was the gist of it, yes." And because he was becoming well acquainted with the way his boyfriend's mind worked, Castiel didn't even wait for Dean to say anything before he put his arms around the other man and murmured into his neck, "I'm not taking her advice, and I told her as much." 

Dean hugged him back, and whether he held on so tightly for Castiel's comfort or his own was anyone's guess. "Did she threaten to fire you?" he asked. 

"No. I _wish_ she'd been that direct about it. I know of at least three straight couples among the staff. If she suddenly chose to make an issue of it in our case, I could accuse her of discrimination and that would be the end of it. Which is why she took a more roundabout approach. She tried to convince me that you were going to use me up and break my heart." Hard as he tried to sound dismissive of the whole thing, a faint note of uncertainty crept into Castiel's voice, and Dean heard it. 

He pulled back and cupped Castiel's cheek. "Oh, baby," he said softly. "That's not true. Please tell me you know that's not true." 

"But I don't." Castiel held Dean tighter, trying to take the sting out of the words. "I know what I want to believe, but I don't _know_ , and I don't want to pressure you into saying it if it's too soon, but … She got inside my head. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You deserve better. You've never given me any reason to distrust you, and I have no right to ask —"

He probably would have kept on babbling indefinitely, but suddenly Dean's mouth was on his, Dean's tongue was gently coaxing his lips apart, and even if he'd been able to talk and kiss at the same time, he couldn't remember a single thing he'd been about to say. He surrendered himself to it, forgetting Naomi's poisonous words and even her very existence for a few moments. 

When Dean released him, they had somehow moved. Castiel was backed up against the shelves with Dean's body pinning him in place, and a laugh burst out of him as he realized he was in the exact position he had fantasized about the first time he found himself alone with Dean in this fridge. 

"Well, that cheered you right up," Dean murmured huskily, nuzzling behind Castiel's ear. "What's funny?" 

"It's not funny. I'm just … happy. I don't know what I did to deserve you." 

"Ha. Pretty sure I'm the lucky one here. And you have every right to ask, Cas. I _want_ you to tell me if there's something you need me to say out loud. I'm not great with words, but for you I'll try." 

"Okay," Castiel said, and his breathlessness and racing heart were only partly from the thorough kissing he'd just been given. "So tell me … tell me how you feel about me." He wasn't going to ask for anything more specific than that. The words had to be Dean's own, not spoon fed to him.

"I think you're the most amazing person I've ever met." Dean kept his face buried in Castiel's neck, and Castiel understood the impulse to avoid eye contact in a vulnerable moment, so he didn't try to make him pick up his head. Besides, it was nice to feel the words humming along his skin. "You're funny and gorgeous and nice. Much nicer than people give you credit for. Nicer than you give _yourself_ credit for. You're good to Claire, so patient and respectful of her feelings. And even though you know I have secrets, you never push. No one's ever been this understanding about Sam before. And you are something else in bed." 

Castiel chuckled. "I think at least some of the credit for that goes to you." 

"Yeah, but we're talking about you right now. You can tell me how awesome I am later." 

"Oh, I will. Continue." 

Dean finally lifted his head and looked Castiel in the eyes. "Cas, I feel like … like I've been looking for someone just like you for a long time, and I know it's only been a couple weeks, and I don't want to sound clingy, but now that I found you … I don't know if I can ever give you up."

It wasn't the three classic words, but it was much closer than he'd expected Dean to get this soon. "I feel the same," he said. "I think I started falling for you as soon as I met you, and the more I got to know you, the more I wanted to keep you forever. Even if Naomi's motives really are as altruistic as she claims, which I seriously doubt, the fact is that my heart's already a lost cause. Leaving you now would cause me more pain than it would spare me." 

~o0o~

Dean had always gotten along pretty well with Naomi, so everyone noticed when he suddenly became cold and distant, barely speaking two words to her when she passed through the kitchen, and that in a clipped tone completely unlike his usual friendly, charming self. 

"What the hell happened?" Gabe asked as he grabbed a plate off the pick up counter. "Chef yelling at Naomi is just another Tuesday, but you?" 

"Mind your own business," Dean said good naturedly, "and get that to table seven while it's still hot." 

After closing while they were walking to Dean's car, Castiel said, "Dean, you really don't have to give Naomi the cold shoulder on my account. Don't get me wrong. It's very sexy seeing you defend my honor, but trust me, you don't want to get on her bad side." 

"I'm apparently already on her bad side just for sleeping with you, and I'm not just pissed because she upset you although that's part of it. If she has a problem with our relationship, she should have called us both in and told us she wanted it to stop. It still wouldn't have changed anything, but then we could have at least discussed it like adults. Trying to turn you against me behind my back was fucking sneaky and manipulative, and I really hate being manipulated." 

Castiel had never heard Dean sound so angry. He put a calming hand on the other man's arm. "I agree it was underhanded and unprofessional, but Dean, she knows a lot of people in the restaurant world. Powerful people. My reputation is established enough that she can't do it too much damage, but you need to be more careful. She could blackball you." 

Dean smiled, one of his warm, completely genuine smiles that he only ever seemed to give Castiel and Claire, and reached out to touch Castiel's cheek. "It's sweet that you're worried about me, babe, but I care about you more than I care about my career."

Castiel stared at Dean in mute shock, unable to think of a single thing to say. 


	14. Chapter 14

On January twenty-fourth Castiel woke up before Dean for once. He quickly turned off the alarm he had set the night before to ensure this would be the case and rolled over to look at his sleeping lover. Since Dean was a natural early riser and Castiel was decidedly not, this was the first time he'd gotten to see Dean like this. In sleep all the worries Dean carried faded away, and so did the mask of devil-may-care charm he used to hide his insecurities. He was purely and unguardedly himself just as he was when they made love. It was so breathtaking that Castiel briefly considered setting an early alarm every day just so he could watch Dean sleep, but he knew he wouldn't actually do it. Today was a special occasion. 

He pressed a soft kiss to Dean's slack mouth. 

Dean made a sleepy sound of pleasure. 

He sucked at Dean's bottom lip. 

This time the sound was less sleepy and more pleased. 

He left a trail of hot, wet kisses down Dean's neck and chest before going to work on his sensitive nipples, all the while mapping out every inch of Dean's body he could reach with his hands. They had fallen asleep naked so there was plenty of gorgeous freckled skin available for his perusal, and by now he knew quite a few of Dean's sweet spots. It wasn't long before the noises he was eliciting were distinctly awake and aroused. 

He lifted his head, and sure enough, those green eyes were open and watching him with undisguised want. "Happy birthday," he purred, settling himself comfortably between Dean's invitingly spread legs and immediately starting up an easy, rolling rhythm with his hips. 

"How, ah … how did you know?" Dean gasped out, his arms coming up to clutch at Castiel, feel the movement of his back muscles. 

"I snuck a peek at your driver's license one day while you were in the shower." 

They stopped talking after that and focused on feeling. Even after nearly a month, Castiel still couldn't get over how good the sex was. It didn't matter who topped who or if they even bothered with the whole complicated process of penetration at all. Every damn time was mind blowing, spine melting, forget-how-to-say-anything-except-each-other's-names amazing. This time they came at almost the exact same instant, their mouths sealed together, swallowing each other's moans of ecstasy. 

"So when's _your_ birthday?" Dean said once they'd caught their breath. "Just so I know how much time I have to think of a way to top that. Pun possibly intended." 

"March eighth," Castiel said, but a dark cloud had suddenly intruded on his sex high, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. "I'm not sure I want to celebrate it this year though." 

"Why not? Is it a big one? I don't care how old you are, you know." 

"No, it's not that. It's … It was Jimmy's birthday too. It'll be the first birthday I've ever had without him." He closed his stinging eyes and tried to will himself back to the happy, peaceful place he'd been in less than a minute ago, but it was unreachable, a distant shore getting farther and farther away as he drifted deeper into stormy waters. 

He felt Dean shift beside him. "You were twins?" 

He nodded. 

"Oh, Cas." Dean tried to pull Castiel into his arms, but Castiel didn't feel like he deserved the comfort. He hated himself for breaking down today of all days. Today was supposed to be about spoiling Dean. 

"It's fine," he said. He made an effort not to push Dean away, instead gently disentangling himself from the other man. "I'm fine. I'll make breakfast today, and after I drop Claire off at school, we can do whatever you want." He tried to give Dean a lascivious grin but could only manage a tight, forced smile. 

"Cas …" Dean started to reach for him again, but before Castiel had time to decide if he was going to allow the touch or not, Dean's phone rang. Dean checked the number and gave Castiel an apologetic look. "It's Sam. I have to take it." 

"Of course. I understand," Castiel said, secretly relieved at the timely distraction. He leaned over to kiss Dean's cheek. "How does French toast sound?" 

"Sounds perfect," Dean said, and his smile was genuine even though there was worry lurking behind his eyes. 

Castiel was still naked and had tacky, half dried come all over his stomach and chest, so he couldn't help overhearing Dean's conversation while he cleaned up and got dressed. As soon as Dean accepted the charges for a collect call and was put through to Sam, his voice changed, taking on the same warm, gently teasing tone he used with Claire. 

"Hey. Calling to wish your big brother a happy birthday?" 

There was faint laughter on the other end of the call, and then a male voice saying something Castiel couldn't quite hear. 

"Oh, yeah? What is it?" Dean said with cheerful skepticism. "A bottle of pruno?" Sam must have said something about a birthday present. But a moment later Dean sat bolt upright on the bed, his eyes going wide. "You're joking!" 

Castiel paused with his shirt in his hands. The childlike joy and delight on Dean's face was wonderful to behold. It actually chased away Castiel's own dark mood, and the day seemed bright and hopeful again even if he didn't yet know why.

The rest of the conversation wasn't very informative. Dean said, "When?" and "Holy shit," and "Yeah, of course you can." And then, after a slightly longer pause, he looked at Castiel and said, still talking to Sam, "I'll ask him."

After Dean said goodbye and hung up, he sat and stared at the phone with a dazed expression. Castiel came and sat on the edge of the bed next to him, putting a tentative hand on Dean's knee. "What was that about?"

Dean raised his eyes to meet Castiel's. "He made parole. They're letting him out tomorrow." He sounded as though he didn't quite believe it, and he suddenly grabbed Castiel and hugged him tight. Castiel felt warm tears dripping on his neck as Dean whispered, still in that half joyful, half disbelieving voice, "He's coming home. My little brother's coming home." 

Castiel held Dean tight and tried to be happy for him, but the emotion swelling in the pit of his stomach felt a lot more like fear.

~o0o~

"Cas, you know you don't have to meet him yet if you're not ready. I know this happened kind of suddenly, but that doesn't mean we have to rush into anything." 

They were driving over to Dean's place so Dean could get things ready. Sam's parole officer would be inspecting his living accommodations, and among other things, Dean couldn't have any alcohol in the apartment. 

"I know," Castiel said, staring pensively out the window. "It's not that I'm not ready. I'm just …" He finally turned to look at Dean. "I'm worried about how this is going to affect our relationship," he admitted. "What if I can't bring myself to trust him? I don't want to come between you and your brother, and I don't want to lose you either. I can't lose you."  
  
He could hear the rising panic in his own voice, so it was no surprise when Dean took one hand off the wheel and laced their fingers together, squeezing reassuringly. "Hey, hey, hey. You're not going to. Nobody's losing anybody. Even if you and Sam don't get along, I can still spend time with both of you, just not together. That's what you would have had to do with me and Jimmy, right? We'll make it work."  
  
"It's not the same. Jimmy and I weren't anywhere near as close as you and Sam. We may have been genetically identical, but the only other thing we had in common was a horrible childhood that we would both rather forget. We saw each other on Christmas and talked on the phone maybe once a month. I don't even know why I miss him so much." 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Castiel wanted to take them back. He wasn't sure who was more horrified — him or Dean. 

"You don't mean that, Cas," Dean said softly. "He was your brother." 

"No." He wished he could plead that it was the grief talking. The words were all the more horrible because they were true. "No, he was my twin, but he hadn't been my brother for a long time. And this isn't about me and Jimmy. This is about me and you and Sam. Practically speaking, if we can't find a way to be one big happy family, how are we going to handle it? Who will you spend Christmas with? What if we wanted to get married? Would you really not resent me for refusing to invite your brother to our wedding?" 

"So now we're getting married?" Dean chuckled, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "Kinda fast, don't you think?" 

"I said 'what if'. It's called a hypothetical scenario, and you're avoiding the question." 

"Well, can you at least meet him before you disinvite him from our hypothetical wedding?" Dean was starting to sound frustrated, but he didn't let go of Castiel's hand. Some part of Castiel registered that they were having their first actual argument and yet they were still holding hands. All hypothetical future sources of conflict aside, that boded well for their relationship. 

"Of course I'm going to meet him first, but I need to know, Dean. If, _if_ my final decision is that he can't be a part of Claire's life or mine, can _we_ survive that? Are you absolutely sure we can make it work?" 

"No, obviously I'm not _absolutely_ sure. I can't see the future, Cas. I'm not psychic. But you want to know what I _am_ sure of? I'm sure that I love you and I _want_ to make it work. I want it more than I've ever wanted anything in my life." 

Castiel sucked in a sharp breath as though he'd just been unexpectedly kissed. "You love me?" 

Dean risked taking his eyes off the road for a moment. It was clear from his expression that he hadn't meant to say that out loud so soon, but he didn't look like he wanted to take it back either. "Yeah, I do. I love you. You don't have to say it if you're —"

"I love you too." 

Dean's smile put the sun, moon, and stars combined to shame. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Explicit sex, discussion of bullying, and oblique references to self harm
> 
> This chapter contains my first piece of fan art! A reader who requested to remain anonymous made Claire's drawing for me, and it's perfect!

Monday afternoon found Castiel slumped on the couch, watching Julia Child reruns while flipping through old _Cook's Illustrated_ magazines in search of inspiration. Naomi had decided it was time to revamp the restaurant's menu, and he needed to come up with a list of recipes that were "original and unexpected" but also in keeping with _Paradis_ ' traditional French vibe and not too much of a strain on the budget. Usually he would have enjoyed the challenge, but today his heart wasn't in it. It was too busy missing his boyfriend. 

It had been three days since Sam's release, and Dean had been spending all his free time with his brother. Castiel didn't resent it, or at least he was trying not to. He understood that the brothers needed to reconnect, and it wasn't like Dean was ignoring him completely. They texted frequently, trading jokes and updates about their day. They always managed to steal a few minutes of alone time after work, and Dean always whispered "Love you," before they went their separate ways for the night. In fact he said those words every chance he got now, which was good because Castiel couldn't get enough of them. 

So he wasn't unhappy, far from it, and he wasn't mad at Dean, but he _was_ horny. This was the longest he'd gone without sex since he and Dean started sleeping together, and his body had gotten used to at least one orgasm a day. More on quiet afternoons like this. Jerking off wouldn't be anywhere near as satisfying as having Dean's big, calloused hands on him, but it might take the edge off enough to let him get some work done. 

His phone rang. He snatched it up, hoping it might be Dean. Phone sex was way better than lonely masturbation even if the process was basically the same. But when he saw the number for Claire's school, all thoughts of getting off fled his mind, replaced with every worst case scenario his imagination could conjure up. He fumbled to mute Julia Child and answer the call at the same time, almost dropping the phone. 

"Mr. Novak," said a vaguely familiar feminine voice once he'd managed to coordinate actually holding the phone to his ear and saying hello. "This is Principal Mills." His memory supplied an image of a good looking woman with short, graying hair and laugh lines around her eyes. He had liked her, he recalled. She had spoken to Claire with kindness and respect rather than the exaggerated sweetness used by adults who only pretended to like children. 

"Is Claire sick?"  
  
"No, no. She's healthy and safe, but we do need you to pick her up a little early today. There was … an altercation with another student."  
  
"An altercation? You mean a fight? Claire was fighting?" He probably should have been expecting that. It had certainly been his go to coping mechanism after his mother died, until he discovered other even more self destructive but less obvious outlets for all the pent up rage and helplessness. He unconsciously rubbed his palm against his thigh where his jeans concealed the scars. 

"We're honestly not sure exactly what happened," Ms. Mills said. "It would be better if we had this conversation in person, Mr. Novak."  
  
"I'm on my way." 

The ten minute walk to the school gave him time to calm down and consider the appropriate reaction. His foster parents had usually sided with the teachers, not even listening to his side of the story. He wouldn't do that. As far as he was concerned, Claire was innocent until proven guilty, and he wouldn't punish her if it had been self defense. However, as Principal Mills had warned him, piecing together what had actually happened was difficult. The teacher supervising recess had seen Claire shove another child to the ground. The other child claimed it had been unprovoked, and Claire of course wasn't saying anything. She couldn't even be persuaded to write down her version of events. It was like all the progress of the past few months had been erased in a single day, and she had retreated deep into her shell. 

"You aren't seriously going to suspend her just because the other child can tell you what supposedly happened and Claire can't contradict their story," he said, turning on the principal in a burst of fierce parental protectiveness. "That's outright discrimination." 

"Claire isn't being suspended," Ms. Mills said with the infinite patience of one who spends all day dealing with belligerent children and their often even more unreasonable parents. "We're just giving her the rest of the day off. Whatever happened, it was clearly upsetting, and no one learns well when they're upset. So go home, have a good dinner and a good night's sleep, and we'll start fresh tomorrow."  
  
Castiel continued to glare suspiciously. Arguing with Naomi had taught him to be wary of traps hidden in placating words. "And there will be no consequences until you're absolutely sure who was the instigator." It wasn't a question. 

"None. You have my word. Our school counselor will talk to Claire and Alex separately, and only when we have a complete picture will any action be taken. Even then, the consequences won't be too severe. We've never had any trouble from Claire before, so at most she'd have to have weekly meetings with the counselor to work on her anger management skills. And that's only if her outburst was unprovoked. If it was self defense, I won't even insist on that." 

Castiel decided that he definitely liked Ms. Mills. He wished she'd been his principal when he was in school. He might have actually graduated. 

Claire seemed to relax a little too. Then Ms. Mills said, "Claire, could you wait outside please while I have a quick word with your uncle? It won't take long and then you can go home." Claire immediately stiffened and gave both the principal and Castiel a narrow eyed glare before picking up her school bag and flouncing out of the office, conveying wordlessly that she knew full well they were going to talk about her behind her back and she didn't like it. 

Castiel actually felt a smile spread over his face, watching her stalk off in a huff. Two months ago she would have left quietly, face blank and moving lethargically as though she honestly couldn't care less. She _was_ communicating even if she was doing it in total silence. She was coming back to herself as Missouri had promised, being a real child with feelings and opinions instead of a listless little angel. 

Ms. Mills next words popped his bubble of unexpected happiness. "Mr. Novak, while I have you here, there are a couple other issues I've been meaning to talk to you about. Claire's grades are not what they should be. At her old school she was a straight A student. Here she's averaging Bs and Cs." 

Castiel immediately felt himself getting defensive again. "She had to switch schools in the middle of the year while simultaneously adjusting to a new home and dealing with the trauma of losing her father. As long as she's not actually flunking, her academic performance is not my highest priority right now." 

"I agree, it's to be expected," Ms. Mills said calmly. "This is not a criticism of Claire or of you. It's simply one of several warning signs we've noticed." 

He frowned. "Warning signs for what?" 

"For a child at risk of clinical depression." 

His breath caught in his chest. His hand automatically began rubbing his scars again. 

"Claire also doesn't seem to be making friends. Again, expected and understandable," Ms. Mills hurried on before he could bring up the mute issue. "But plummeting grades, lack of socialization, and now violent outbursts? That's a very worrying combination regardless of if today's incident was unprovoked or not. In fact, if Alex did attack Claire first, that is even more worrying. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what kind of toll bullying takes on a child's emotional health." 

"No, you don't," he said quietly, still compulsively rubbing his leg. He really wished Dean was sitting next to him right now. He closed his eyes and imagined Dean taking his hand, squeezing it tight, and giving him a warm, one-hundred-percent-genuine-Dean smile. No charm, just love. He opened his eyes, feeling at least somewhat grounded again. "What do you recommend I do? Get her professional help?" 

"It couldn't hurt. I can give you a name if you want." 

"Please." 

She began shifting papers on her desk, muttering, "Where did I put that damn thing?" Finally she produced a business card. 

_Dr. Charlene Bradbury, PsyD, children's grief counselor._

"She's very good. And very open minded about different kinds of families." 

He blinked. "How did you know …" 

Ms. Mills smiled. "While we were waiting for you, I gave Claire some crayons to pass the time. She drew this." 

She handed him a sheet of printer paper with two vaguely humanoid figures drawn on it. It was difficult to tell their gender, but they were helpfully labeled _Uncle Cas_ and _Deen_ , and next to Dean's name (he really needed to show her how to spell that correctly) Claire had written, presumably for Ms. Mills' benefit, _boyfrend_ with an arrow connecting back to the Castiel figure. The figures were holding hands and were surrounded by lopsided hearts as though some deranged cupid had thrown confetti at them. He smiled and tucked the picture in his pocket to show Dean. 

~o0o~

Castiel had privately hoped that as soon as it was just him and Claire back home, she would magically feel safe enough to open up and explain what had happened. That fantasy was quickly dashed. She still declined to write anything down, and his attempt at twenty questions was met with a stony stare, not even a nod or a head shake to point him in the right direction. Not wanting her to feel hounded or think he was mad at her for not being able to just talk, he finally let it go and sent her off to play until dinner time. 

He tried to work on the new menu, but after an hour he still hadn't made even the tiniest bit of progress, and his eyes kept drifting to his phone. Just one quick call, just to hear his voice. It was Monday. They wouldn't see each other until tomorrow night which had seemed like a minor annoyance before his conversation with Principal Mills. Now it seemed unbearable. He wrestled with temptation, knowing all along that he was going to break.  
  
"Hey, babe. What's up? I said pause the damn game! That's cheating!"  
  
"You weren't winning anyway," laughed another voice, but the video game music in the background stopped. 

"If you're busy, I can —" He shouldn't have called. He was going to come off all pathetic and clingy, like he couldn't cope on his own for a few days. He had coped with much worse than this on his own. Except … Except back then he hadn't had a choice. There was no one to call. And now there was. What was the point of having a boyfriend if you couldn't call him when you were having a bad day? 

Clearly thinking along the same lines, Dean said, "No, you sound upset. What's wrong, babe? Did Naomi pull some new crap?" 

"No. Although I would like your help with the new menu, but that's not why I called. Claire got sent home from school for fighting. She either can't or won't tell me what happened, so I don't know if I should be punishing her, and I … I'm drowning, Dean. I'm failing at this parenting thing. I don't know what I'm do—" 

"Whoa. Slow down there, Cas." Dean's voice was as warm and sure as his arms gathering Castiel close, catching him before he could spiral into full blown panic. "One bad day does not make you a bad parent. Maybe Claire just needs some time to cool off." 

"Yeah. Maybe." Castiel rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm scared, Dean," he admitted in a small voice. "This is how it started with me." 

"How what started?" Dean asked, confused. 

"After … after my mother died, after Jimmy and I went into foster care, I started getting into trouble at school. Then, when I realized I was only making life harder for myself, I tried other things. Things that didn't draw attention." 

Dean was silent for a moment, and then he said Castiel's second favorite three word sentence. "I'm coming over." 

"No. Dean, you should spend time with your brother. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have —" 

"I'm starting to get on Sam's nerves anyway cause I'm better at video games than him." 

"Are not, jerk," came a tinny retort in the background. Dean ignored it, all his attention focused on Castiel. 

"And this sounds like a conversation we should have while I'm cuddling the fuck out of you." 

Castiel chuckled, already feeling like a weight had lifted from his chest. "Well, try not to cuddle _all_ the fuck out of me. I was planning to use some of my fuck on my boyfriend the next time I see him. Haven't gotten much alone time with him lately." 

He could almost hear Dean wince guiltily. "I know. I'm sorry about that, babe." 

Castiel opened his mouth to reassure him that it was all right, but what came out was, "I will happily accept your apology when it is delivered in person. Naked." He considered for a moment and added, "Getting down on your knees couldn't hurt."

Dean laughed, "My knees beg to differ, but I'll see what I can do. Just for you." 

~o0o~

Claire cheered up considerably too when Dean walked through the door. The three of them worked together to cook Dean's homemade mac and cheese, and after dinner they watched _Lilo and Stitch_. It was just like Christmas only better because Dean had his arm around Castiel, and Castiel was allowed to rest his head on Dean's shoulder. He could hardly believe things had changed so much in only a month. 

Claire put up a bit of a fight at bedtime, but once she was assured that Dean would still be there in the morning, she went quietly. As soon as she was tucked in with her beloved cat, Castiel pulled Dean into his own bedroom and locked the door. 

"Naked. Now," he commanded, tugging Dean's shirt up.

"Somebody's impatient tonight," Dean chuckled, giving him a hand. 

"I missed you." He sucked on Dean's neck and pinched his nipples, determined to get him hard as quickly as possible. "I want you to fuck me." 

"I thought you wanted me on my knees," Dean said, but the rough timbre of his voice and the size of his pupils said he was down for whatever Castiel wanted to do. 

"I changed my mind." 

Dean laughed again and reeled him in for a deep, hungry kiss. 

Once they were naked and pressed against each other, Dean sliding one lubed finger in and out of Castiel while peppering his face with kisses that were more affectionate than sexual, Castiel's impatience settled into a quiet enjoyment of the closeness. He had always considered himself more of a top. Getting fucked could feel good, but not good enough to make up for the messy and slightly embarrassing experience of letting someone else shove their fingers up your ass while you tried to both relax and stay hard. Clearly though, he hadn't been doing it right because Dean somehow managed to make anal prep sexy and intimate. They were both lying on their sides facing each other, gazing into each other's eyes, and Castiel had no trouble staying relaxed. He could fall asleep like this, finger up his ass and all. 

"Have I really been neglecting you?" Dean murmured. "Tell me the truth." 

"No. I was teasing on the phone." Castiel shifted the leg that was slung over Dean's hip so Dean could go a little deeper. "I was fine until today, and I want you to spend time with your brother and whoever else you want to spend time with. I know I'm not the only person in your life." 

"Just the only one I want to fuck," Dean said, adding a second finger. 

"Yes," Castiel laughed. "And let's keep it that way." He moaned as Dean crooked his fingers just right. "Ohhh. Oh, yes, right there." 

Dean grinned triumphantly and massaged his prostate until Castiel's flagging erection was standing proud again and drooling pre-come on Dean's thigh. Castiel gave in to the urge to rut against the warm skin. 

"I missed this," Dean said, his voice getting rougher as he watched Castiel turn to putty in his hands. "I mean, not _just_ this. I missed other stuff too. I didn't just come over for sex. I —" 

Castiel cut him off with a hard kiss. "I know that," he mumbled against Dean's lips. "Now stop being such a gentleman and get that gorgeous cock of yours inside me." 

Dean laughed. "Well, aren't you just Mr. Demanding tonight. How do you want to do this? Missionary or cowboy?" They never did it doggy style. They both preferred to be able to see each other. 

"Missionary," Castiel decided, rolling onto his back. "And go slow. Make it last." 

Dean's eyes darkened at that. He crawled over Castiel, caging him in, then sank down so that their foreheads were touching. They both kept their eyes open, enjoying each other's pleasure as much as their own while they slowly joined their bodies together. When Dean finally bottomed out, he held still for a few moments to let Castiel adjust. 

"God, I will never get over how gorgeous you are," Castiel breathed. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to … Are you blushing?" 

Dean turned even pinker and buried his face in Castiel's neck.  
  
"Oh my God. You have your dick up my ass right now, and you're embarrassed because I called you beautiful?" 

"I'm bad at taking compliments," Dean mumbled.  
  
"Well, that's too bad. You're beautiful and wonderful, and I'm never going to stop telling you so. I think your eyes are the most beautiful part of you, although your mouth is a close second, especially when it's all pink and wet from kissing me. And then there are your freckles. Your freckles are gorgeous. Someday I'm going to kiss every single one."

"Shut up," Dean groaned, but he was shaking with laughter, and it made his cock move just right inside Castiel. 

"Oh! Oh God, you were right," Castiel gasped. "Laughing during sex is the most amazing thing ever. Do that again." 

Dean lifted his head, his face still pink and his eyes sparkling. "Make me." 

"Knock knock." 

Dean burst out laughing without even waiting for the punch line, which was good because Castiel didn't have one. He clung to Dean, delirious with happiness, and fervently hoped that he would get to keep this forever. 

"Fuck, I love you," Dean said when he could speak again. 

"I love you too. Now fuck me, you beautiful, wonderful, adorable man."

Dean opened his mouth, probably to object to the adorable part, but Castiel clenched his ass hard, effectively shutting him up. 

They continued to murmur words of love every time they could find the breath to do so. Dean kept the pace slow as requested, but he nailed Castiel's prostate almost every time, and in between thrusts he would grind his hips just right, rubbing his stomach against Castiel's slippery cock. Castiel drifted in and out of awareness, losing long minutes to white hot, all consuming pleasure that never quite peaked. He writhed and bucked his hips, moaning, "Please." He wasn't even sure what he was begging for except maybe for this to never end. He was securely pinned under Dean, completely in the other man's power, and he was loving it. It was so safe, so freeing. 

"It's okay, baby," Dean panted. "You come whenever you're ready. You don't have to wait for me." 

"No. I want to come with you."

Dean looked at him like he was a gift, and consciously or not, he began to move faster inside Castiel. "God, I love you. I love you so much, Cas. You're so perfect. You're everything I ever wanted." Dean was babbling, losing his last shreds of control, and if Castiel had still had any doubt that Dean meant those words with everything in him, this would have been the final proof. It wasn't possible to lie when you were this close to mind blowing orgasm. 

Castiel had to stifle a scream as he came harder than he ever had in his life. Dean wasn't far behind, and Castiel thought that the feeling of Dean spilling inside him without a condom might have actually triggered a second orgasm. It certainly seemed like a long time passed before he even started to come down. 

When he did, he felt as weak as a newborn kitten, but Dean's strong arms were there, cradling him safely even though the other man was trembling too. "I think that was a new best for us," Dean said breathlessly. 

"I think that was the best sex anyone has ever had in the history of sex," Castiel said, "but I'm sure we'll find a way to break the record again soon." 

Dean laughed and buried his face in Castiel's sweaty hair. They cuddled in silence for a while. Dean's softening cock slipped out of Castiel, and the mingled come and lube started to seep out too. Not the most pleasant sensation in the world, but he was way too blissed out to care. 

"You know I'm never too busy for you, right?" Dean murmured. "Doesn't matter what else I've got going on. If you need me, I'll always be there."

Castiel felt tears sting his eyes. "Always?" he asked softly. 

"Always," Dean repeated without hesitation, his arms wrapping tighter around Castiel. 

There was another interval of quiet cuddling. Then Castiel said, "I want to meet Sam. As soon as possible, but … And please don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think you should be there." 

"Why not?" Dean asked in surprise. 

"Because this decision isn't about you and me. It's about Claire. And if you're there, I'm going to … I want so badly to make you happy, Dean, but I have to do what's right for my child even if it's painful for me, and I'm afraid that having you there will compromise my judgment."

Dean relaxed. "Yeah, that makes sense. And we're gonna be fine, Cas. No matter what."

Castiel smiled. He knew Dean wasn't as certain as he sounded, but the fact that they both wanted it to be true was a hopeful sign. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I'm such a tease. There will be Sam backstory in the next chapter, I promise.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Discussion of murder, suicide, and addiction. If you need specifics before you feel comfortable reading, go down to the end notes.

Castiel had thought that Dean was a big man. Sam Winchester was bigger. Even sitting down he looked tall, and the cafe's signature oversized coffee mugs looked like part of a child's tea set in his huge hands. But while Dean took on the world with a grin and a wink, projecting confidence no matter what he was feeling on the inside, Sam held himself cautiously, arms pulled in close, shoulders a little hunched, trying to make himself small. Castiel wondered if that was a defense mechanism he'd learned in prison or if he'd always been that way. 

They'd been sitting in awkward silence for almost a full minute. They both knew what they were here to talk about, but neither of them seemed to know how to start. 

Finally Sam said, "Cas, I …Do you mind if I call you Cas? Sorry. Dean told me what it was short for, but I can't remember." 

"It's Castiel, and I think I'd prefer that, at least for now." 

"Of course." Sam ducked his head contritely. "Castiel. I want you to know that I really appreciate you giving me this chance to earn your trust." 

Castiel looked at him steadily, trying to decide if he was sucking up, but there was only sincerity there. Castiel rewarded it with a truth of his own. "You're an important part of Dean's life, and Dean is an important part of mine. Whether we can all be part of each other's lives remains to be seen, but I owe it to him to at least try. I want to be perfectly clear on one thing though. Even if I decide to trust you, that trust can still be broken. If I ever feel you're a danger to my daughter in any way, it's over. There will be no second chances." He didn't insult Sam's intelligence by asking if he understood.

Sam nodded, and he didn't shrink under the weight of Castiel's gaze. He actually seemed to gain a little confidence, sitting up straighter. Castiel wondered how long it had been since someone besides Dean had spoken to him like an equal. "He loves you, you know," Sam said out of the blue. 

Castiel felt a faint smile steal over his face. "I know," he said quietly.  
  
"Yeah, but … I don't just mean he's _in_ love with you. That too. You don't even need to know Dean very well to see that, but …" 

Sam chewed his lip and looked out the window at the busy Midtown street, searching for the right words to explain himself. Castiel waited.

"The other day, when you called him and you were upset, and he dropped everything to be there for you? That's what he would have done for me. That's what he does for family. I've never seen him act that way with anyone he's dated, and that's why …" He looked at Castiel again. "That's why I'm going to tell you the whole story. I don't like talking about it, so this is a one time deal, but if Dean says you're family, then you deserve the whole truth, so here goes." 

There was another silence while Sam got his thoughts in order, but it wasn't nearly as awkward. Somehow things had shifted. Castiel was no longer sitting in judgment on Sam. They were working together to bridge the gulf between them and make this strange little patchwork family work.  
  
"When I was in college," Sam started, "I met this girl. Jessica. She was …" His face got a look halfway between joy and pain. "She was perfect. Gorgeous, kind, smart, and for some bizarre reason, into me. I fell so hard and fast, and I never looked back." 

Castiel could already tell that this story did not end with 'happily ever after'. 

"When we were twenty one, I scraped together the money to buy a ring. I only told two people — Dean, and my best friend Brady." Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the bad part. "Well, it turned out Brady had a drug problem, and he was in debt to some pretty dangerous people. He thought that diamond would get them off his back, so he went to our apartment when I wasn't home, and of course Jess let him in. Why shouldn't she? He was our best friend. I don't know exactly what happened next, but it ended with Jess bleeding to death on the floor. I found her hours later." 

Castiel tried to imagine what that must have felt like. His brain supplied an image of Dean lying in a pool of blood, and he quickly shut down that line of thought. "So you killed Brady?" 

Sam shook his head. "No. Not saying I wouldn't have, but Brady beat me to it. He overdosed on purpose, left a note confessing to Jess's murder. As far as the police were concerned that was the end of it. Except it wasn't. Not for me. And I'm not saying what happened to Jess justifies what I did next. She would have been ashamed of the person I turned into. I'm not trying to justify anything. I'm just giving you the whole picture." 

Castiel nodded. "I understand. Go on."  
  
Sam took a moment to collect himself again and continued. "It started with alcohol, but it didn't take me long to graduate to other things. I lost my law school scholarship, had to drop out. That probably should have been my wake up call, but I kept going. No school just meant more time to get high. And I know what you're thinking. Where was Dean in all this? Right?" 

Castiel didn't deny it.  
  
"He didn't know. I mean, he knew about Jess, but after the funeral I basically dropped off the face of the Earth. I stopped answering his calls. I moved without giving him my new address. He called the university office and found out that I'd quit school. At that point he didn't even know if I was alive. I put him through hell, but at the time I told myself I was protecting him. If he knew how bad things were, he'd sacrifice everything to help me. He'd spend all the money he'd saved for his restaurant on rehab for me. That's just who he is. He takes care of the people he loves. I told myself that this way at least one of us would get to live his dream, but the truth was I didn't want to be saved. I just hadn't worked up the nerve to do what Brady did, so in the meantime I was doing every stupid, reckless, self destructive thing I could think of.

"Then I met another girl. Ruby. She was the complete opposite of Jess, and calling it a romantic relationship would be way too generous. She was a dealer, and she liked me enough to let me pay with sex instead of money. I was running out of money by then. After a while she started using me for other things too. I would, um … encourage people to pay their debts. I didn't enjoy it. I had to get high to do it, and even then it made me sick, but it was that or Ruby would cut me off, and I was an addict. Getting cut off from my supply was the worst thing I could imagine.

"One night, me and Ruby were out working the clubs. I was high as a kite, but Ruby had me driving so she could count the money. She never let me handle the money. And … Well, I don't remember it clearly. I remember a bright light and feeling the car spin out of control, and then I woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed. They told me Ruby was dead, and since I was driving while intoxicated, I was being charged with second degree murder. I did the only thing I could think of. I called Dean. And he did exactly what I always knew he would. He spent almost every penny of his savings to get me a good lawyer and pay for my treatment. If you ask him, he'll say he doesn't regret it, and he'll mean it. But _I_ regret it. My stupidity cost him his dreams, and I can never pay that back any more than I can bring Ruby back to life. I regret that too. She wasn't a good person, but she didn't deserve to die."

When Sam finished his story, Castiel could only sit in stunned silence for several long minutes. The cheerfully normal noise of the cafe continued around them, but it couldn't touch their little bubble. Sam waited patiently while Castiel processed everything he'd just heard. 

Honestly, Castiel thought, the worst part was how horribly familiar it was. If his life had taken a slightly different turn, if Cain hadn't showed him how all that anger and helplessness could be channeled into food, he would probably have landed himself in prison sooner or later. And he wouldn't have had a brother like Dean. 

But just because he could relate, that didn't mean he was ready to completely trust Sam. "I presume you're clean now," was the first thing he said. 

"Eight years. And one of the conditions of my parole is that I attend weekly NA meetings and submit to random drug tests. No driver's license either for at least two more years. Not sure I'll want one even when I can. Haven't been behind the wheel since … I have no idea what it would do to my head." 

"And you have a sponsor? Someone besides Dean you can talk to if you feel like you're in danger of slipping?"  
  
"Yeah. He's an ex-con too, so he gets the whole situation, not just the addict part."

Castiel nodded. When he took a sip of coffee to buy some time to think, it was stone cold. He grimaced and pushed away the mostly full cup. "How about you join us for dinner tomorrow, Sam? We usually eat early because Dean and I have to be at the restaurant before the dinner rush. Does four o'clock work for you?" 

Sam lit up. "Yeah. Sounds great."

~o0o~

When Castiel got home, Dean and Claire were playing Monopoly, and it looked like Claire was winning. Dean looked up from the game, hope and fear warring on his face. 

"Sam is coming to dinner tomorrow," Castiel said, not wanting Dean to suffer a moment longer than necessary. "You are of course invited too."

Dean was on his feet in an instant and pulling Castiel into a bruising hug. 

Castiel laughed and hugged him back just as tightly. "What kind of food does he like?" he asked when Dean let him breathe again. 

"Vegetables," Dean said promptly. "He's always been a health nut. Although lately he'll eat anything that's not prison food." 

From her place on the floor, Claire tugged on Dean's pant leg, then pointed insistently at the game board. 

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said. "I'm coming." He sat back down, and Castiel sat beside him, leaning against his shoulder as though it was the most natural thing in the world. 

"Well, it looks like this game is almost over," Castiel said, observing the pile of properties in front of Claire and the dwindling supply of cash on Dean's side of the board.  
  
"Kid's a budding loan shark," Dean grumbled fondly, reaching over to ruffle Claire's hair. 

Claire giggled and rolled the dice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jess is murdered in a robbery gone wrong. The murderer, a friend of Sam's, commits suicide before he can be brought to justice. Sam starts doing drugs and working for a dealer (Ruby). He drives while high and gets into an accident. Ruby is in the car with him. She is killed, and Sam is charged with second degree murder.


	17. Chapter 17

At first Claire was understandably wary of this enormous stranger, and prison obviously hadn't afforded Sam many opportunities to learn how to talk to kids, but he gave it a try. "Dean says you like cooking, Claire." 

She looked up from her plate and gave the tiniest of nods. 

"Did he ever tell you about the time when he was about your age and he made macaroni and cheese with marshmallows?" 

Castiel almost choked on a bite of chicken as he burst out laughing. "You did _what_?" he said when he had managed to safely swallow. 

"I was eight," Dean said defensively, "and it was his idea." He pointed his fork accusingly at Sam. 

"Yeah, but I was four. You should have known better than to listen to me." 

Claire looked back and forth between the brothers, and for a moment Castiel was afraid that she thought they were really arguing, but then she put down her fork and pulled out her little notepad and pencil. 

Castiel and Dean exchanged a hopeful look. She'd started communicating with Gabe and some of the others at the restaurant this way, but they hadn't expected her to warm up to Sam so quickly. Maybe Dean's obvious affection for him had swayed her, or maybe she was just getting more comfortable with written words at least, if not spoken ones. 

But when she finished writing, she passed the note to Dean, not Sam. Dean read it and snickered. "She wants to know if you cook too, Sam. Can I tell her about the time you set off the fire alarm while trying to boil water?" 

Sam rolled his eyes. "That wasn't my fault. The stove was electric and it shorted." 

"Yeah, yeah. That's your story." 

Castiel felt a momentary twist of pain in his chest as he watched the good natured brotherly bickering. He vaguely remembered a time when he and Jimmy had been able to argue without actually arguing, back when their lives had been … Well, not happy, but full of simple, familiar miseries that they endured side by side. He dragged his attention back to the present before he could get sucked too deep into the quicksand of memories, and he realized Sam was talking to him now. 

"Dean might have gotten all the culinary talent in the family, but I know good food when I eat it, and this is really good. Mind if I take more of that ratatouille?" 

"Of course not," Castiel said, passing over the dish. "Eat as much as you want. I'm glad you like it."  
  
Sam wasn't the only one who liked it apparently. Claire was also eating the unfamiliar vegetable stew with every sign of enjoyment. She had helped Castiel make it, peeling the vegetables under his careful supervision and meticulously layering them in the pan as he cut them up. He had noticed that she was always more willing to try new foods when she had a hand in their preparation. Maybe he should give the vichyssoise another go with that in mind. 

"So, Sam," Castiel said in his most innocent tone, "do you have any embarrassing stories from Dean's childhood you'd like to share?" 

It was Dean's turn to almost choke on his food.  
  
Sam needed no further encouragement, and before his brother could recover enough breath to protest, he had launched into a tale of the time sixteen year old Dean had styled his hair in a bright blue mohawk. 

While they were loading the dishwasher, Dean sidled up behind Castiel and wrapped strong arms around his waist. "Thank you," he murmured. "You have no idea how much it means to me that you did this." 

Castiel relaxed back against him. "I'm glad I could make you happy. I love you, Dean." 

"Love you too." 

He could feel the words, not just humming along his skin where Dean's lips were pressed to his neck, but also resonating in his heart and soul. He turned in the circle of Dean's arms and caught his lips in a kiss. He meant it to be short and sweet, but as usual they got lost in each other, and the next time Castiel opened his eyes, the edge of the counter was pressing into the small of his back, and Dean was wedged between his invitingly spread legs. 

And Sam was standing in the doorway, the empty ratatouille dish in his hands and an amused smile on his face. "Can I come in, or do you guys need another minute?" 

Castiel couldn't find it in him to be embarrassed. He was way too happy. Dean turned a little pink (well, pinker than the kiss had already turned him) and mumbled, "Shut up," but he made no move to release Castiel. 

The doorbell rang. 

"That will be Missouri," Castiel sighed, loath to leave Dean's arms and get ready for work.

~o0o~

Dean had to drive Sam home, so Castiel got to the restaurant ahead of him. Naomi was waiting. 

"Castiel, I'd like to go over the new menu if you have a minute." As usual the polite phrasing did not disguise the fact that this was an order. 

"Can it wait until Dean gets here? He's running a little late tonight." Anna had always been included in menu meetings, and at least half the suggested new items were Dean's ideas. 

Naomi's mouth pressed into a thin line. "If he can't be here on time, then I'm not going to rearrange my whole schedule to accommodate him, no." And she swept into her office, clearly expecting Castiel to follow promptly.  
  
He glared after her and deliberately took his time buttoning up his chef's coat and tying his apron, making sure every fold lay perfectly. This was the first time Dean had ever been even a little bit late, but heaven forbid anyone should have a life outside of work. Naomi certainly didn't seem to. In eight years Castiel had never heard her talk about a family or friends. Some of the staff speculated that she slept in a coffin, but he rather thought that was too poetic for her. She probably just plugged herself into a charging port every night. 

"Deep breaths, chef," said Gabe who was folding napkins nearby. "It's too early to be letting her spike your blood pressure like that. This is a marathon, not a sprint." 

He was right, and Castiel forced himself to take a calming breath. It was going to be a long night if he let her get under his skin that easily. "Is it just me or is she getting even more unbearable?" Maybe he was just more sensitive lately with all the stress of taking care of Claire and trying to process his own tangled feelings about Jimmy's death. 

"She does have quite the bug up her ass about you and Dean," Gabe said, his deft hands never pausing in their work, the napkins almost seeming to dance into shape all by themselves while he hardly paid attention to what he was doing. "Personally I don't see why she objects. You're much more pleasant to work with when you're getting laid regularly." 

"Happy to be of service," chuckled a voice right behind Castiel. 

He jumped and spun around, almost crashing into Dean's solid chest. 

"Whoa. Hey, babe." Dean steadied him and then pecked him on the cheek. They had relaxed their no-kissing-at-work rule somewhat, but kisses on the lips could still get out of control fairly quickly as evidenced by their unintentional PDA earlier, so they tried to save that for home. Even so, the brush of Dean's mouth on his skin, the catch of stubble and the warm whisper of breath had Castiel's eyes slipping closed for a moment and the tension melting out of his shoulders. "Sam says thanks again for dinner and for, you know, giving him a chance." 

"Who's Sam?" Gabe asked, either unaware or unashamed that he was intruding on a private moment. With Gabe it was probably a little of both. 

"My brother," Dean said shortly. 

"Oooh. Are we at the meet-the-family stage already?" 

Castiel ignored this. "Naomi wants to go over the menu before opening." 

Dean grimaced. He still hadn't forgiven Naomi for trying to make Castiel break up with him, and things had been very chilly (figuratively speaking anyway) whenever the two of them were in the kitchen at the same time. She wasn't stupid. She had to know why he was giving her the cold shoulder, but she hadn't confronted him about it or made any more attempts to drive the two men apart, confining herself to sour looks whenever they showed the least sign of affection in her presence. 

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Winchester," she said tartly when they entered her office together. 

Dean just smiled at her. It was the complete opposite of the smiles he gave Castiel. All charm, no sincerity. 

They went over the new menu piece by piece. This was always a tedious process, and made more so by the fact that Naomi pretended to know more about food than she actually did, but Castiel could have sworn that this time she was being more difficult than usual, and the dishes she argued about most stubbornly were all Dean's suggestions. 

"Shepherd's pie? Are we running a diner?" 

This was actually one they'd developed together, a fancier version of the recipe Castiel had made for Christmas, using the highest quality ingredients they could get their hands on but still preserving the simple, wholesome comfort food feel of the dish. Castiel explained this as patiently as he could, just as he had explained the thought process behind the bacon and wild mushroom roulade and the spicy French-Moroccan inspired beef stew. He was getting a little annoyed with Dean who just sat there in silence. 

"A little help would have been nice," he grumbled when they were finally allowed to return to the kitchen. "Those were your ideas I was defending in there." 

"I know," Dean said quietly. He pulled out a cutting board and tested the edge of a knife. "She was arguing with them _because_ they were my ideas, Cas. If I'd gotten involved, she would have dug in her heels even more." He began chopping carrots as though each one had insulted his parentage. 

For the first time Castiel noticed the simmering anger beneath Dean's seemingly apathetic silence, the same anger he had seen when Dean said, _I really hate being manipulated_. "Dean." He put a calming hand on the other man's arm, feeling the muscles jump with every movement of the knife. "Dean, stop for a minute."  
  
The knife went still.

"Look at me."  
  
Dean met his eyes, but Castiel couldn't interpret the emotions swirling in those green depths. 

"Tell me what you're thinking." It was soft, gentle, the request of a lover, not the demand of a boss. He lifted his hand to cup Dean's cheek, stroking lightly over the bone with his thumb. "Please?" 

"My …" Dean's voice faltered in a way Castiel had only heard a few times before. "My dad used to do that," he said, barely above a whisper. "When he was pissed at me for whatever reason, he'd start … criticizing everything I did. It always made me feel like shit even when I knew he was just being an ass and it wasn't my fault. Thought I was past all that insecure bullshit, but apparently not because for just a second back there I thought maybe she was right. Maybe all my ideas were stupid." 

"Oh, Dean." Castiel leaned in and pressed their lips together, not caring for the moment about professionalism or anything other than the quickest way to erase the bitter unhappiness from Dean's eyes. "That's not true," he murmured against Dean's mouth. "You are a brilliant chef, and your ideas deserve to be on that menu. Naomi is just being spiteful. I honestly don't know why she's so against our relationship, but it is not your fault." 

Dean smiled and rested his forehead against Castiel's. "I know that, babe. But thanks for saying it anyway." 

As they reluctantly drew away from each other and got back to work, Castiel noticed more than a few people quickly hiding bemused smiles, but Naomi was nowhere to be seen, and clearly no one else thought that Castiel kissing his sous chef in the middle of the kitchen was a problem. Gabe winked at him as he grabbed a plate off the pick up counter, and Castiel smiled back. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left comments and/or kudos on this story. It means the world to me.   
> And a million squillion thank yous to EyumdaRelmera for helping me work out some sticky plot points and chatting with me at one in the morning about everything from strange food combos to random fic ideas. (There ... might be a story involving cowboy bunnies in assless chaps in my ideas folder now. These things can happen when you're sleep deprived.)

Dr. Bradbury was not what Castiel expected. For one thing she wore a t-shirt with Bugs Bunny on it. "It makes the kids more comfortable," she explained when she saw his bemused look. "Business casual just screams 'judgey adult who is reporting everything I say back to my parents'." Then she added with a conspiratorial wink, "Besides, I'm the boss, so I set the dress code, and I really like this shirt." 

He smiled. 

For presumably the same reasons, her office resembled a preschool classroom. Toys, games, a child height table with arts and crafts supplies, but no desk, nothing to divide her from the patient and make them feel judged. 

It was just Castiel today. Dr. Bradbury had wanted to meet with him privately to get some context for Claire's situation before they officially started treatment. 

She led him over to a living-room-like area in the corner of the office, and they sat down on mismatched love seats facing each other. Castiel had a moment of deja vu. Minus all the toys, this could have been Cain's house, and he half expected Dr. Bradbury to bring out an antique tea set and a jar of homemade honey. Instead she picked up a tablet from an end table and tapped the screen to wake it up. 

"So you said on the phone Claire lost her father back in November?" 

"Yes. A car accident." It was easy to talk about it like this, dry and clinical, telling the doctor what she needed to know. As long as it was about helping Claire, he could put his own feelings aside. 

"And her mother?" 

"She died giving birth to Claire. Eclampsia."  
  
"So you're her only living family?" 

"Yes. But …" This part was always hard no matter how many times he did it. Even with Principal Mills' assurance that Dr. Bradbury would be open minded, it still scared him a little, saying the words to someone new, but he took a breath and added, "There's also my boyfriend." Because no matter how short a time they'd been together, and no matter what certain people might have to say about two gay men raising a child together, he and Dean _were_ raising Claire _together_. Castiel hadn't truly felt like a single parent in a long while, maybe not since that first grilled cheese sandwich. 

Dr. Bradbury smiled reassuringly. "Does he live with you?" she asked, no judgment in her tone, just trying to get the lay of the land. 

Castiel relaxed. "No, but he stays over fairly often since I can't leave Claire alone. Claire likes him. He's very good with her." He couldn't help the goofy little smile that took over his face whenever he talked about Dean. Thankfully Dr. Bradbury was too professional to mention it, but the twinkle in her eyes said it was very obvious just how head over heels in love he was.

"And does Claire understand that your relationship with this man is romantic? I only ask because I don't want to accidentally let slip something you don't want her to know. How much you tell her about your private life is completely up to you." 

"I've discussed it with her, yes. And she's seen us kiss. She knows that we sleep in the same bed when Dean stays overnight. When she's old enough to grasp the concept of sex, I'm sure she'll put two and two together, but I'm hoping it'll be at least a few more years before we have to have _that_ conversation." 

Dr. Bradbury chuckled sympathetically. "I'm sure Claire won't enjoy it any more than you will, but better to make sure she has the right information rather than letting her piece it together from TV and the internet and how other kids think it works. Ignorance about sex doesn't stop kids from trying it. On another subject, how often do you discuss Claire's father with her?" 

Castiel tensed. "I … don't. I know that's probably not healthy, and I don't want her to forget him, but …" He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "I'm not sure anything I could tell her would make her feel better. My brother and I weren't close. We spent time in foster care, not always in the same home, and as we got older we just drifted farther and farther apart. And after I came out, it got worse. He couldn't understand it, didn't _want_ to understand it. And I don't want her to think her father was a bad person. He wasn't. He had his flaws like everybody, but he was a good man and a wonderful father. But Claire worships Dean. She loves him almost as much as I do. How do I tell her that if her father was still alive, Dean wouldn't even have been allowed to meet her, let alone read her bedtime stories and teach her to make pancakes?" 

The words poured out in a rush like he had opened a floodgate, and when it was over, he felt breathless. 

Dr. Bradbury put her tablet aside and leaned forward. "Castiel, you have every right to still be angry with your brother for his rejection of your sexuality. Death doesn't entitle us to blanket forgiveness from the people we hurt. But if you let this anger fester, Claire will come to believe that you hated her father and that perhaps you do want her to forget him. I know it's not easy, but you need to talk to her for both your sakes. You don't have to paint her father as an angel who never did anything wrong. Like you said, he was a flawed human being. Tell her that. Tell her it was complicated. Tell her that even good people can be stubborn and misguided and prejudiced sometimes. But even without meeting Claire, I can tell you right now that she will process her grief better if she sees you grieving with her rather than trying to forget." 

~o0o~

Castiel didn't even consider not including Dean in the conversation. He knew he was going to need the emotional support both during and after, and Dean had proved time and again that he was in this for the good and the bad. As Sam had said, Dean treated Castiel like family. Castiel owed him the same. 

Of course he didn't intend to get into the really bad stuff with Claire. He spent most of the afternoon debating in his head what exactly he should tell her and what he should leave out. And then he remembered the photo album. 

Jimmy had given it to him for their birthday one year, a peace offering after a big fight. Castiel had been seriously dating Bart for almost a year at the time, and he'd foolishly hoped that if he explained to Jimmy that it wasn't a casual fling, that he thought he might be in love with this man, then Jimmy would soften up and allow him to bring his boyfriend to Christmas dinner. When Jimmy flatly refused, Castiel hadn't spoken to him for months. He didn't even go to Illinois for Christmas that year. After dozens of ignored calls and emails deleted unread, a package arrived at Castiel's door in early March containing a photo album full of pictures from their childhood. Castiel hadn't even known that many pictures existed. 

He waited until Monday night when they wouldn't have to rush. After dinner he took the album off the bookshelf. He hadn't looked at it since a couple months before the fateful phone call that had turned his life upside down, and he had to blow a thick layer of dust off of it. He stared at it for a moment, wishing he could reclaim those months of silence, erase every stupid argument they'd ever had. But at the same time he felt that familiar anger. 

_Death doesn't entitle us to blanket forgiveness from the people we hurt._ Dr. Bradbury's words echoed in his mind. And he remembered too Dean saying, _I don't think I could have handled all the shit if I hadn't had Sammy on my side._

 _It wasn't stupid. He was my brother, my twin. I should have been able to count on him to accept me even if no one else did, but if he was still alive, we would_ still _be fighting about it._ Even knowing what the response would be, Castiel wouldn't have been able to resist telling Jimmy about Dean, about how happy he'd been lately. 

But would they even be together if he hadn't needed help figuring out what to feed Claire? Would he have fallen as fast as he did if he hadn't seen how sweet and kind Dean was to Claire, if he hadn't seen behind the mask? The undeniable mutual attraction might have been good for a few nights of flaring passion, but if he hadn't been motivated by circumstances to take it slow, to insist on a stable relationship instead of a one night stand or a friends with benefits arrangement, would they have what they had now? For that matter, would they have ever even known that the attraction was mutual? If Jimmy was still alive, Castiel would have gone to Illinois for Christmas, and Dean would have been left alone with his _Die Hard_ marathon and a sad little dinner for one. 

He would never know how it might have played out under other circumstances. The threads of cause and effect were too tangled, and there was no changing the past. He felt like that should have been an epiphany. He should realize in a flash that life was what it was and let go of his anger. But no, the anger was still there. 

Two big hands settled on his hips, and a firm chest pressed against his back. "What's that?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder at the album.  
  
"Something I want to show you and Claire. Where is she?" 

"Playing restaurant with her stuffed animals. Where else?" 

Once Claire was coaxed away from her game, the three of them settled on the couch, and Castiel opened the album to the first photo. Two babies in matching blue sleepers laying side by side. "That's your dad," Castiel said, pointing to the baby on the right, "and that's me." He pointed to the other baby who was scrunching up his nose and giving the camera a confused frown. 

Dean laughed. "I was gonna ask how you could tell which was which, but yeah, I've totally seen you make that face."  
  
Castiel resisted the urge to stick his tongue out. "It also says so on the back of the picture." 

He checked Claire's reaction. She didn't seem upset, and she wasn't freezing up like she had when confronted with the Christmas tree ornaments. 

He turned the page. "And that's our mother. Your grandmother." 

The picture showed a young (very young) woman sitting on a couch, a swaddled baby in her arms. She was smiling, but you could see the exhaustion in her eyes. 

This time Dean kept silent. He couldn't fail to notice that the woman in the picture could more accurately be described as a girl, not more than seventeen, but he wasn't going to comment on it in front of Claire.  
  
Claire pointed at the picture and gave Castiel a questioning look. 

"She died a long time ago," Castiel said. "When your dad and I were about ten." 

Thankfully she didn't ask _how_ her grandmother had died. She just cuddled a little closer to Castiel and patted his arm. It took him a moment to realize she was comforting him. In her own wordless way she was telling him, _I understand. I'm sorry you had to go through that too._

His throat got painfully tight, and his eyes stung. He kissed the top of her head and let a few tears trickle out. He felt Dean reach over Claire to rub his shoulders and remembered that Dean too had lost his mother at a young age. They were all three of them orphans. 

Once Castiel had gotten a hold of himself, they continued flipping through the album. In time lapse they watched Jimmy and Castiel grow from infants to toddlers to young children. There were even a few pictures of Castiel's own grandmother though she had usually been behind the camera he recalled. A picture of himself at about six years old standing on a chair in front of the stove and peering into a big pot brought back a memory he'd nearly forgotten. 

"Dumplings," he said, talking more to himself than to Claire or Dean. "We were making dumplings, and it was my job to watch and tell her when they'd all floated to the top. That meant they were done." For a moment he could almost taste Babi's sauerbraten and potato dumplings with gingersnap gravy. 

There was a picture of Castiel and Jimmy with their faces and hands covered in chocolate as they licked a mixing bowl. Claire giggled at that one. A picture of them unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. He didn't tell her that the presents had probably been disappointing. The picture had captured that moment of hopeful anticipation when it truly seemed like the beautiful wrapping paper could contain anything in the whole world, and maybe this was the year all their dreams came true. They looked happy because they were. For just a moment, they were. 

Of course the album could tell a darker story if you knew what to look for. Their mother didn't appear in many pictures, and when she did, her smile looked sad and forced. There were occasionally blurry men in the background, but either Babi hadn't taken any pictures of Mama's "friends", or Jimmy hadn't included those pictures in the album. There had been so many of them over the years, Castiel couldn't remember any names. 

He saw Dean frown occasionally, but the man never said anything beyond the occasional teasing comment about what an adorable child Castiel had been. And Castiel knew that even after this, if Castiel still didn't want to tell the whole story, Dean wouldn't push.  
  
At the end of the album there was a sudden time jump. On one page Jimmy and Castiel were eight or nine, and on the next they were all grown up, dressed in tuxes, and Jimmy had one arm around the waist of a beautiful blond woman in a white dress. 

Claire's eyes went wide, and she pointed to the woman in white. 

"Yeah. That's your mom," Castiel said softly. "You look a lot like her. Although you got your dad's eyes." 

Dean gave him a sideways look but didn't ruin the moment by pointing out the inadvertent Harry Potter reference. 

There were a few pictures from after the wedding, Amelia wearing a Christmas themed maternity dress, a holly wreath perched on her golden curls like a crown.  
  
The very last picture was obviously taken in a hospital room. Jimmy's eyes were red rimmed. He'd lost his wife less than twenty four hours ago, but he was looking at the baby cradled in his arms like he'd found something worth living for. Claire touched the picture with her fingertip, but Castiel knew she didn't need it explained that the baby was her. 

"Claire," he said, speaking to the top of her head since she was still snuggled up to him. "I know we haven't really talked about your dad since the funeral, and I'm sorry for that. I miss him a lot too, and sometimes … Sometimes it hurts to even think about him. But I don't want you to forget him, and I … I don't want to forget him either. So I'm going to leave this book right here," — he pointed to the coffee table — "and you can look at it whenever you want. And if you want me to look at it with you and tell you about him and your mom, I will. Whenever you want. Okay?"  
  
She nodded, and then she flipped back to the beginning, and they looked at all the pictures again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babi or Baba are common diminutives of the Russian word babushka which means "grandmother". Since Castiel's surname Novak is common throughout Russia and Eastern Europe, it made sense to me that he would call his grandmother that.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the unannounced hiatus. I haven't been having a great month, and mental health needs to come before fanfictioning. Updates might be irregular for a while, but I promise I am not giving up on this story. I will finish it come hell or high water. It just might take me a little longer than usual. 
> 
> And once again I cannot thank EyumdaRelmera enough for all her help, advice (both taken and ignored), and emotional support. I promise to protect you from the pitchfork wielding minions, hon.
> 
> Warnings: This chapter contains discussion of child abuse, child neglect, sexual abuse, teen pregnancy, and suicide. Be safe.

On Monday nights, once Claire was in bed, it usually wasn't long before Castiel and Dean retreated to the privacy of what Castiel was quickly coming to think of as _their_ room, and clothes came off. Tonight Castiel felt hollowed out, scraped raw inside, and the thought of sex made him more exhausted than excited, but at the same time the idea of sleeping alone made him a little panicky. He needed the comfort of Dean's arms even more than usual tonight. With any other man he would have worried that asking for a night of platonic cuddling this early in the relationship would be interpreted as losing interest, but this was Dean, so he knew that the chances of this triggering an argument were basically nil. 

When he came back from tucking Claire in, he found Dean in the kitchen adding a generous dollop of honey to a steaming cup of tea. The scents of chamomile and lavender hung in the air. He didn't have to ask who it was for. Dean derisively referred to tea as 'hippie leaf water', but when he found out that Castiel often enjoyed a cup in the evenings before bed, he had interrogated the young woman whose family shop supplied the restaurant, pestering her with questions about different blends and the advantages of loose leaf versus bags until she broke down and gave him a crash course. 

Dean wordlessly handed Castiel the cup. Castiel took a sip and hummed with pleasure as the flavors unfolded on his tongue. Sweet and floral without being cloying. 

"Good?" Dean asked. 

"Perfect. You're going to spoil me for the supermarket stuff."  
  
Dean smiled. "Well, if you insist on drinking leaf water, I'm damn well gonna make sure it's the best leaf water I can afford to buy for you." 

Castiel was becoming more fluent in Dean Winchester every day, and he knew that what he was really saying was, _I like taking care of you. So let me._

"I, um… Do you mind if we don't… _do_ anything tonight? I'm kind of worn out." 

"Of course," Dean said immediately. "I get it. It must have been pretty draining talking about all that stuff with Claire." 

Even though Castiel had been ninety-nine percent sure that would be Dean's answer, he still felt a surge of relief and gratitude as he was reminded yet again of why he loved this man so much. 

"Do you still want me to stay over, or would you rather have the bed to yourself tonight?" 

"No," he blurted out. "I mean, no, I don't want you to leave," he clarified a little more calmly. _I don't ever want you to leave._

"Okay." Sensing Castiel's lingering panic, Dean rubbed his arm soothingly. "How about we watch something while you drink your tea, and then we'll go to bed." 

They settled in with some old rom-com, but Castiel quickly lost the thread of the plot. He seemed to be very bad at watching movies with Dean. He always got distracted by something. Usually it was Dean, but this time, it was the unspoken other half of the story sitting in his chest like a stone. He had come very close to telling Dean everything the day Claire got sent home for fighting, but in the end he had wanted to make love more than he had wanted to talk, and afterward he had been reluctant to ruin the post-coital bliss. Now though…

He felt like the carefully selected pieces he had shared with Claire had dragged all of the rest of it to the surface with them. It was as easy as it would ever be to finally get it all out in the open. He paused the movie. 

Dean turned to look at him but didn't say anything. He could tell that Castiel was working up the courage to say something, and he just waited, tracing idle patterns on Castiel's shoulders, grounding him with soft touches as Castiel navigated the dark, twisting labyrinth of his own mind. 

"My mother was seventeen when she got pregnant with me and Jimmy," he began with no preamble, ripping off the band-aid. "We never knew who our father was. I don't know if he didn't want to be part of our lives or if she never told him about us, but his name isn't even listed on our birth certificates.

"We… had a rather unsettled childhood even before Mama died. Sometimes we lived with our grandmother, but she and Mama would fight, and then Mama would leave to go stay with friends… or the boyfriend of the month. Sometimes she took us with her, and sometimes… sometimes she took us places she really shouldn't have."  
  
Dean tensed, his hand squeezing Castiel's shoulder a little harder. "Cas, were you…" He didn't seem able to make himself say the words. 

"Not that I recall," Castiel said, staring intently at the texture of Dean's jeans. "I suppose it could have happened when I was too young to remember it, or I blocked it out. But I think I prefer not knowing. I _saw_ plenty of sex though, both on TV and, um… live, of course. By the time I was six I had a pretty good idea of how it worked, though I didn't understand how anyone could enjoy it."

"Jesus," Dean muttered.  
  
"It wasn't all bad. I had Jimmy. We were very close back then. And Babi, our grandmother, did her best to give us a normal childhood whenever she got the chance. I think she would have fought for custody of us, but her health was poor. She had arthritis and diabetes. She couldn't keep up with two little kids on her own, and she was afraid that if she reported Mama to CPS, we'd get taken away and she'd never see us again. Which is, of course, exactly what happened when Mama died." 

Dean held him tighter, and Castiel burrowed into his shoulder, muffling the words a little as though that would make the memory any less painful. "She overdosed on sleeping pills. It was ruled an accident since there was no note, but I've always wondered if maybe she did it on purpose." 

He took a shuddering breath and pressed on, eager to get the rest of the story over with so he could fall asleep in Dean's arms and stop thinking for a while. "The first home they put us in wasn't so bad. They were nice people, and Jimmy and I were kept together. They even let us share a room so we wouldn't be scared at night. But then the father lost his job, and they had to move out of state to find another one, so back into the system we went, and the next place… wasn't good. That's where I got these." He touched the cigarette burns on his chest. They were currently hidden by his shirt, but Dean would know what he meant. He probably knew Castiel's body better than he knew his own by now. 

"And that was how it went for the next eight years. Some places were better than others, but nothing lasted long, and I learned not to get my hopes up. Jimmy and I weren't often in the same home, especially as we got older. It's rare to find a foster family willing to take on two teenage boys, and I had gotten a reputation as a challenging child. Not undeserved. I was… I was very angry." 

Castiel glanced at Dean to see if this phased him at all, but of course Dean just looked back, completely non-judgmental. He had stood by his brother through a murder charge. Teenage anger management issues weren't going to make him turn his back on Castiel. 

"After I aged out of the system," Castiel went on, putting his head back down on Dean's shoulder and cuddling into the other man again, "I was placed in a… a kind of halfway house for foster kids. There was free counseling and they helped us figure out what we wanted to do with our adult lives. The fact that they had to spend most of their time repairing the damage the system had done to us was an irony no one ever pointed out. We were just grateful to have a support system and not be thrown out into the world with no safety net and no family to run home to. One of the social workers, a man named Cain Adams, found out that I liked cooking, so he suggested I apply to culinary schools, and… well, the rest is history I guess." 

They were both silent for a while, Dean rubbing Castiel's back, his face pressed to Castiel's forehead in a kind of drawn out kiss. Castiel hadn't really expected to feel better for talking about it. He'd just wanted to get it over with so that he wasn't keeping secrets from Dean anymore. But he was surprised to find that he did feel a bit better. The pain wasn't gone, but the infection had been purged, and he could finally begin to heal. 

He slowly became aware that Dean's shirt was damp under his cheek. He'd been crying without realizing it. "Sorry," he said, lifting his head. "I got you all wet." 

"Don't worry about it." Dean stroked his cheek, and there was sadness in those green eyes, but still no pity. "Cas, I… would it make you feel any better if I said I'd like to kill everyone who ever hurt you?" 

Castiel gave a watery laugh. "Maybe. A little." 

"Well, I would. And I'd also like to give this Cain guy a hug." 

"That one I might actually be able to arrange. I keep in touch with him."  
  
After a little more quiet cuddling, Dean said, "You want to finish the movie?"

Castiel looked at the screen and realized he couldn't remember what the story was supposed to be about or the names of any of the characters. "Can we just go to bed?" 

"Sure." 

They brushed their teeth together in the apartment's tiny bathroom, stripped down to t-shirts and boxers, and climbed into bed on their usual sides, promptly meeting in the middle and resuming their cuddling. No one watching them move around each other with the easy familiarity of an old married couple would have believed that they'd been together for less than two months. 

Just before he drifted off, Castiel heard Dean murmur, "I love you so much, Cas. You have no idea. And I'm never going to let anyone hurt you ever again. I promise." 

"I love you too," Castiel mumbled, and he fell asleep feeling truly, completely safe and loved, maybe for the first time in his life. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The outpouring of love in the comments on the last chapter was extremely humbling. Thank you all for your kind, supportive words. They meant the world to me. 
> 
> And extra ginormous huggles and thank yous to EyumdaRelmera for helping me beat this chapter into submission, and for teaching me the difference between ellipsis and ellipses. =)
> 
> WARNING: In this chapter a character expresses extremely homophobic views. Obviously these statements do not reflect my own opinions in any way, and I wouldn't have included them in the story unless they were essential to the plot. 
> 
> Also please note that even though I've added a final chapter count, that number may still change. I have my outline, but Dean and Cas might have other ideas.

One Sunday in mid-February found Castiel sitting in a small classroom at a local community center with a dozen other parents and their children. Claire was sitting in his lap, so many strangers making her nervous and clingy, and Dean sat beside him, their shoulders brushing comfortingly. Just like with the photo album, there had been no question of excluding Dean from this. 

Castiel balked when Dr. Bradbury first suggested enrolling Claire in an ASL class. It felt too much like giving up, like they were admitting that Claire would never talk again, but the doctor had patiently explained to him that that wasn't what they were doing at all. 

"She's already started improvising her own sign language, so we're not even giving her a new tool, just honing the one she's been using and making it as reliable as possible for her. The more confidence she has in her ability to communicate her needs, the safer she will feel." Dr. Bradbury's gaze was kind and reassuring. "Don't think of this as labeling her a lost cause, Castiel. Think of it as making sure she can live a full, happy life no matter what the future brings. Besides sign language is a valuable skill for anyone to have." 

Put like that, he really couldn't argue. 

The class they chose was specifically geared towards families with deaf and/or mute children, and Castiel was relieved to see that he and Dean weren't the only same sex couple there. There were two other men with a five or six year old girl. They also relaxed visibly when they saw Dean and Castiel among all the straight couples. Castiel made a mental note to say hello later. 

The teacher introduced herself as Miss Eileen. Her speech had the distinctive sound of someone who'd learned to talk without being able to hear their own voice, but Castiel soon got used to it like any accent and stopped needing to concentrate so hard to understand her. He spent most of the time watching her hands and clumsily trying to mimic the shapes they described so gracefully in the air. Every now and then he felt Dean's arm bump his as the other man did the same, and he smiled at the silent reminder that he wasn't alone in this. 

Claire watched Miss Eileen raptly as though the teacher was imparting the secrets of the universe, which Castiel supposed she was in a way. For the first class they started with basic words that would be immediately useful in the everyday life of a child: school, home, play, eat, help, please, and thank you. 

Miss Eileen went around the room, gently correcting finger motions where needed. Claire shied back against Castiel the first time she approached them, but the teacher smiled reassuringly and said, "It's okay, sweetie. You're doing fine, but can I show you an easier way that won't hurt your fingers?" And she didn't touch Claire until Claire cautiously extended her hands in permission. 

After half an hour, the longest that the youngest children present could be expected to sit still and pay attention, Miss Eileen let them go with a reminder to practice at home as much as possible before next week. 

"That was actually kinda fun," Dean said, rolling his shoulders a little. 

"Yes," Castiel agreed. His brain wasn't as overloaded with information as he'd expected from learning a new language, and the movements had started to feel more natural towards the end. "What did you think, Claire? Do you like this way of talking?" 

She smiled and nodded an enthusiastic yes. Then, to Castiel's delight, she made the signs for 'eat' and 'please' that she'd just learned. 

"You're hungry?" 

She nodded. 

"Okay. We'll go get something to eat. Thank you for asking so nicely." He made the sign for 'thank you' as he said it. Even though her hearing worked fine, it couldn't hurt for her to see him using the signs too. It would help all of them retain the new material, as well as make signing feel more normal. 

"Hey," Dean nudged him and nodded across the room. The other gay couple was making their way over. Clearly they had the same idea as Castiel earlier. 

Claire saw the strangers approaching and quickly slid off Castiel's lap, darting to hide behind Dean's broad back as Dean and Castiel stood up. Dean chuckled and patted her shoulder reassuringly. "You're okay, kiddo. I'm sure they don't bite." 

"Hey. Max Baines," the slightly taller of the two men introduced himself. He had coffee colored skin and a bright smile that made his deep, dark eyes twinkle mischievously. Castiel would have found him incredibly attractive in the days before all his attention swung towards Dean like the needle of a compass pointing true north. Now, however, he felt only an abstract appreciation for the beauty of the man. "This is my husband, Aaron." 

Aaron's smile was shy, half hidden by a thick beard. He was clearly the more introverted half of the couple, balancing out Max's vibrant energy. 

"And this little cutie is Tasha." Max reached down to ruffle his daughter's hair. She resembled both her fathers with Max's dark skin and black hair and Aaron's big brown puppy eyes. "You want to say hi, Tash?" Max asked gently. He looked directly into the little girl's face as he talked to her, and Castiel realized he was making sure she could read his lips. 

She looked nervously over at Dean and Castiel, gave a shy wave, and then promptly hid her face against Aaron's jeans. 

"Castiel Novak," Castiel said, shaking first Max's hand, then Aaron's. "This is my boyfriend, Dean, and," he paused slightly, not wanting to get into the whole complicated story of their family dynamic, continuing with, "this is Claire." 

Claire peered suspiciously out from behind Dean.

"Hey, Claire," Max said, giving her an encouraging smile. 

She blushed and hid behind Dean again. Although it hurt Castiel's heart seeing her so timid and frightened, the trust she had in Dean to protect her warmed him inside.

"Nice to not be the only odd ones out here," Aaron said, speaking up for the first time. His voice was deeper than Castiel had expected. 

"Very nice," Max agreed. "Would you guys want to exchange numbers, get together some time? Trade gay parenting tips?" He laughed a little as he said it, but it was still clearly a serious offer. 

Castiel liked the idea, but he looked to Dean before he said anything. Dean… had a rather odd look on his face. "Yeah, that sounds," he hesitated, "good. I mean, if Cas wants to." 

"Yes, I think it would be nice," Castiel said. He took Dean's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Whatever was bothering the man, they could figure it out later in private. 

~o0o~

They went to a small, reasonably priced bistro called _Milk and Honey_ that served breakfast all day every Sunday. When Claire pointed to the chocolate chip pancakes on the menu, the waitress looked uncertainly from Castiel to Dean and back, clearly wondering whose permission she was supposed to ask before giving the kid a plateful of sugar. Castiel said, "It's fine." Claire had been very cooperative about giving up one of her school-free days for the ASL class, and he felt that she deserved a treat. 

The waitress, whose name tag said Robyn and who couldn't have been much more than eighteen, wrote down the order and turned to Dean. "And for you, handsome?" she said with a flirty smile. 

"Actually, those pancakes sound really good," Dean said. "I'll have the same." He was either oblivious to the girl's interest or tactfully ignoring it. Either way it gave Castiel a warm thrill of _mine_. 

He tried not to look _too_ smug as Robyn directed a now slightly disappointed smile at him. He gave the menu one last glance, mentally said _fuck it_ , and told her to make it three stacks of chocolate chip pancakes with extra whipped cream on the side. "We'll just have to find a way to work off the calories later. Right, honey?" he said to Dean with a suggestive smirk, and for good measure, put his hand on Dean's thigh under the table.

Dean gave him a look that said he knew exactly what Castiel was playing at, but also that he had no objections. 

Robyn flushed bright pink and said, "Okay. Be right back with your order," before beating a hasty retreat. 

"You realize she was probably just trying to get a bigger tip, right?" Dean said, putting his hand on top of Castiel's and rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. 

"Yes, well, flirting with my boyfriend is definitely not the way to do that." 

"Wow." Dean laughed suddenly, a surprised, delighted sound. "You actually have a little bit of a possessive streak, don't you?"

Castiel glanced at Claire. She was busy decorating her paper placemat with the crayons the restaurant provided for that purpose, but he knew that didn't mean she wasn't listening to every word. "We can discuss it later," he said, "while we're working off the pancakes." He scraped his fingers lightly along the inseam of Dean's jeans, watching Dean's pupils dilate, but withdrawing his hand before he could get the man unfairly worked up in a situation where they couldn't do anything about it.

The pancakes were wonderful, fluffy and chocolaty and just the right amount of sweet. Claire and Dean had a contest to see who could stuff more in their mouth at one time and both ended up looking like chipmunks. Castiel just watched with amusement, ignoring Dean goading him to join in. "You already know I can fit quite a lot in my mouth," he finally said with a raised eyebrow, "but if you'd like me to prove it again…" 

Dean almost choked, and once he'd recovered and swallowed, he retaliated by dabbing whipped cream on Castiel's nose and then leaning over and licking it off which had Claire in fits of giggles. Castiel was about to give Dean a whipped cream facial of his own when someone cleared their throat pointedly nearby.  
  
The three of them looked up. Castiel was expecting that a restaurant employee had come to tell them they were making too much of a disturbance although they weren't being particularly loud, and there were several other families with far more rambunctious children. But the middle-aged woman standing beside their table wore a smart, wool suit, not an apron. Castiel's eyes caught on the small silver cross around her neck before rising to take in the disgusted expression on her face, and all the happiness of the moment vanished, leaving only the dizzying sensation of the fight or flight adrenaline rush. 

"Can we help you?" Dean said in a flat, ice cold voice Castiel had never heard him use before, not even with Naomi.

 _Go away,_ Castiel begged silently. _Please just go away. Not in front of Claire. Please don't make her listen to this._

"You should be ashamed," the woman said, her voice shrill and carrying. The noise level in the restaurant dropped abruptly as people turned to stare. "Your sinful lifestyle is one thing. That is between you and God. But to bring a child into this… this…" Words seemed to fail her, and Castiel dared to hope that it was over, but then she drew a breath and burst into impassioned lecturing again. "If this country had any morals whatsoever, she would be taken away from you and given to a _normal_ couple who haven't been blessed with children of their own." 

"That's enough!" Dean said, standing up abruptly, but that wasn't what snapped Castiel out of his terrified paralysis. It was the tiny, heartbreaking whimper that Claire made just before she burst into tears. 

Castiel shot out of his seat, pushing past the woman so forcefully that she stumbled into another table. He crouched down to pull Claire into his arms, and she clambered out of her chair to wrap herself around him like an octopus, clinging on tightly. He tried to murmur soothing words to her, "It's okay, honey. You're safe. No one is going to take you away. I promise," but his words were mostly drowned out by her sobs. She hadn't made this much noise in months, and it was terrifying him. 

Castiel was only dimly aware of an argument taking place above his head. A restaurant employee had come over and was telling the woman to leave. The woman was protesting that she was a paying customer, and the employee was explaining less than patiently that that didn't give her the right to harass the other paying customers and frighten their children. But between Claire's screaming and his own mounting panic as he tried and failed to calm her down, Castiel had no attention to spare for anything else. 

He flinched when he felt a hand on his arm, but it was only Dean kneeling beside him, wrapping strong arms around both him and Claire. In that moment Castiel kind of wanted to burst into tears himself, but he knew that would only frighten Claire more, so he locked down his rising emotions. 

He was pretty sure Claire only stopped screaming because she was out of breath. She still clung to him like someone might try to drag her away at any moment, but the silence was a relief to his ears and probably everyone else's, and she could finally hear him telling her that she was safe. "No one's taking you away. I promise," he repeated over and over like a mantra. 

The noise level in the restaurant was still muted, but at least people were trying not to stare. The employee who'd made the homophobic customer leave was a plump, motherly woman. Her name tag said Doris. "I am so sorry," she said sincerely. 

"It's not your fault," Castiel reassured her.  
  
"Still, I'm sorry you were subjected to that in my restaurant. Or anywhere. People like that… Ooh, they just make me so angry. And scaring a kid like that? I don't know how she sleeps at night." 

Castiel thought of Jimmy. Would he have agreed with any of the things that woman had said? That Castiel and Dean had no business parading their "sinful" love in front of an impressionable child? That Claire would be better off in a traditional home? But no, he had never wanted Claire to be raised by strangers. That was why he'd had Castiel sign those papers despite his opinions on Castiel's sexuality. And he certainly wouldn't have approved of frightening Claire or any child with talk of forcibly taking her away from her family. He knew a thing or two about that. In this if nothing else, Castiel was sure that he and his brother would have been on the same side.  
  
"Your meal is on the house," Doris was saying. 

"No, that's not necessary," Castiel protested. "You shouldn't lose money because of someone else's bigotry." He knew well that restaurants like this operated on a shoestring budget, often just barely keeping the doors open from month to month. 

Doris hesitated a moment, and then she crouched down next to them and smiled kindly at Claire. "Hey, sweetheart, what's your name?" 

"Claire," Castiel answered for her. 

"Claire. That's a beautiful name. Do you like milkshakes, Claire?"  
  
Claire nodded warily. 

"Chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?"  
  
Claire held up three fingers. 

"All of them?" Doris said, sounding amused. 

Claire shook her head and held up three fingers again. 

"No, I think she means the third one," Dean said. "Strawberry? Is that what you want, kiddo?"

She nodded and gave him a watery smile of thanks for understanding her. 

"Okay. One strawberry milkshake coming right up. On the house," Doris added with a stern look at Castiel.  
  
He held up one hand in surrender, the other still wrapped protectively around Claire. 

They moved back to the table, Claire finally loosening her hold on Castiel but insisting on sitting in his lap again. 

"Cas?" Dean said, scooting his chair a little closer so he could rest a hand comfortably and comfortingly on Castiel's back. "Are _you_ okay?"

 _What have I ever done to deserve this man?_ "Please don't ask me that," Castiel said, his voice coming out tight and strained as he fought back tears again. "I can… I can be not okay later. Now I have to be," he trailed off. _I have to be a father._

Dean nodded, and then he picked up a purple crayon from the table, pushed Castiel's plate aside, and said, "Hey, Claire, you want to play tic tac toe?" 

It wasn't quite the happy, carefree mood from before, but they played games and had drawing contests on the placemats, and Claire drank her free milkshake. 

They all tensed up when another woman approached their table, this one with a little boy in tow, but then the boy stepped forward and offered Claire a sticker with a dinosaur on it. "I gots two stickers cause I didn't bite the dentist," he said gravely. "I gots a triceratops and a T-Rex. I think you should have the T-Rex so if the mean lady comes back, it can bite her. The triceratops wouldn't bite her cause they're plant eaters."  
  
Claire took the sticker and signed 'thank you' which Castiel translated for the boy.  
  
"You're welcome," he said and let his mother lead him away.

"There's hope for the future," Dean murmured, squeezing Castiel's hand.  
  
Castiel squeezed back. "Yes. There is." 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! Thank you so much for your patience and your comments. Your reward is an extra long chapter and some fun NSFW sexy times. 
> 
> I am eternally grateful to my dearest Eyum for helping me beat this chapter into submission and for letting me keep some of my ellipsis this time. She even added a few more. She'll deny it, but I know what I wrote.
> 
> Also this story now has art! Cover art in chapter 1 designed by me, and my first piece of fan art in chapter 15! Go check it out. After you read the chapter. =)

After such a stressful day, Castiel was expecting it to be a difficult night, but it turned out to be the easiest he'd had in a while. The McLeods didn't come in, Naomi left him alone, and he was able to settle into the familiar, almost meditative, rhythm of the kitchen and forget the hateful words that were still ringing in his ears. 'Peaceful' wasn't a word many people would use to describe a restaurant kitchen, but Castiel had always found a kind of peace there.  
  
Except… lately? Not so much. He paused, staring down into a pot of golden winter squash bisque, and tried to remember the last time he'd been happy in his work. More and more since Claire, Dean, and he had formed their little makeshift family, and his once lonely, silent apartment had begun to feel like a home, that was his happy place. The simple ritual of cooking dinner for three in his tiny kitchen — Dean stealing a kiss as he reached over Castiel to grab something from a cabinet; Claire helping wherever she safely could and giggling at Dean's jokes — had become his favorite part of the day, and work was just something he had to get through before he could fall asleep in Dean's arms in a bed that no longer felt too big. 

And while it was definitely a good thing that he had more in his life than just work these days, he still felt that there ought to be a middle ground, a world where he could be happy at home and also look forward to coming to work, or at least not resent it. How had a job he used to truly love become such a chore? 

He had a feeling he knew the answer to that, and her name was Naomi.  
  
"Cas? You okay?" 

Castiel looked up to find Dean watching him with a worried frown. He must have been spaced out for some time. He put aside his slightly disturbing revelation to deal with later and held out a spoonful of bisque to Dean. "Taste this and tell me what it needs." 

Instead of taking the spoon, Dean leaned forward just enough to get his mouth around it. Castiel's breath hitched as memory and imagination ganged up to make him relive in vivid detail exactly what that mouth felt like as it tasted every inch of his body, and with even more care and concentration than it was currently devoting to the soup. Dean's eyes held Castiel's as he let the spoon slide back out between pursed lips, swallowed, and licked said lips thoughtfully. He knew exactly what he was doing, the tease. 

"More nutmeg," he said, "and a little bit of lemon to brighten it up." 

"Y-yes, that's—," Castiel had to clear his throat so he could talk without sounding as if he smoked three packs a day. "That's what I thought."  
  
As he turned back to the pot, valiantly resisting the urge to pin Dean against the edge of the counter and taste the soup directly from his tongue, he felt Dean slide past behind him and drop a quick kiss to the side of his neck, murmuring against his skin, "Great minds." He smiled, not caring if he looked like the love struck fool that he was. 

Dean went off to the other side of the kitchen, but he was back a few minutes later with a bowl of pasta tossed with steamed vegetables, olive oil, and cheese. It smelled delicious, but it definitely wasn't on _Paradis_ ' menu. "What's that for?" Castiel asked. 

"You. Dinner." 

"I already ate dinner." 

Dean gave him an unimpressed look. "You picked at dinner. I can practically hear your stomach growling even over all this racket. Sit. Eat. I'll make sure things don't go to hell." 

It was true that Castiel hadn't had much appetite at their usual dinnertime, and it was technically part of the sous chef's job to make sure the chef took a break when he needed one. If Dean's motives were less those of a conscientious assistant and more those of a concerned boyfriend, well, the end result was the same. 

Castiel took the bowl, gave Dean a peck on the cheek and a quiet, "I love you," in return, and retreated to the chef's table to eat. 

The cheesy pasta and vegetables were exactly what his stomach wanted, indulgent yet simple. He closed his eyes to better savor the flavors and imagined that he could actually taste the love with which Dean had made it. His grandmother always used to say that the secret ingredient in all her recipes was love. When he was very young, he thought it was literal and there was a bottle of love hidden somewhere in her vast spice collection. Dean had found that little bottle to use on this simple dish that he had made just for Castiel, and it was perfect. 

As he took another bite, he found himself idly wondering what she would have thought of Dean. Even though she had died years before Castiel came out, he'd always known in his heart that she wouldn't have cared if he preferred men. She would have loved him for exactly who he was, but she wouldn't necessarily have approved of all his chosen partners. She would have hated Bart who, as a professional food critic, knew everything there was to know about haute cuisine but would look at Castiel like he was crazy when Castiel talked about the superiority of food made with love. She would have taken one look at him in his expensive suit, raised an imperious eyebrow at Castiel, and said in her thick Polish accent, "You can do better."  
  
Dean on the other hand… Castiel felt sure that she would have loved Dean like another grandson. She would have pinched his cheek and put him to work in the kitchen because family always helped in the kitchen. Only guests were allowed to be idle. 

It was a pleasant daydream even if it did make his chest hurt a little, but thoughts of Babi inevitably led to thoughts of Jimmy which led to the decision Castiel had reached today. 

He'd been thinking about it for weeks, and that awful woman's words had finally clinched it. He had promised Claire that no one would take her away, but… what if something happened to him? Jimmy had been young and healthy one day and gone the next. If there was another accident or if Castiel got sick, Dean would have no legal rights to Claire. She would be at the mercy of the foster system even though she still had a perfectly good parent in Dean. She would be ripped away from everything familiar _again_ , and all Jimmy's careful planning would be for nothing. 

~o0o~

Missouri wasn't in her usual place on the couch when Castiel and Dean got home, and the light was still on in Claire's room. Castiel's heart dropped into his stomach. _I should have taken the night off. I shouldn't have left her so soon._ If that woman's words were still ringing in his ears, it must be a hundred times worse for Claire who had never experienced anything like that before. Castiel moved quickly to Claire's bedroom trying to keep a grip on his rising panic.

He pushed open the bedroom door, expecting to find her snuggled up with Missouri, refusing to close her eyes until he and Dean were home and they were all safe and together again. The sight that greeted him instead was… 

"Well, that's friggin' adorable," Dean said from behind him, and that pretty much summed it up. Castiel let out the breath he had been holding and relaxed into Dean as they both took in the room. A blanket fort had been constructed in the middle of the room with two dining room chairs for support. Inside it, Claire was fast asleep with all her stuffed animals, including her beloved cat which was doing double duty as a pillow. Missouri was passed out in Claire's bed, snoring softly. 

Castiel picked his way around the fort carefully and gently shook Missouri's shoulder, whispering her name. She opened her eyes, squinting against the light of the bedside lamp. "You're back already? What time is it?" 

"A little after midnight. Did you have trouble getting her to sleep? I'm sorry. I should have told you it was all right to call me if she was scared."  
  
"Nonsense, sugar." Missouri sat up, quickly regaining her usual brisk manner. "Little boo just needed some extra comfort tonight. It was nothing I couldn't handle. Don't you try to move her now. One night on the floor won't hurt her like it would you or me." 

"You can stay the night if you'd like," Castiel offered. "Clearly we have a spare bed, and I don't want you falling asleep at the wheel." 

"Mmm. I think I'll take you up on that, but help me up outta this bed anyway. I need to use the restroom." 

"Of course." Castiel helped her lever herself up off the soft mattress and made sure she was steady on her feet before he let go. He was relieved that she had accepted his offer so easily. She was a grown woman, and he was pretty sure that no one had ever stopped her from doing exactly what she wanted to do, but even so he would never have forgiven himself if she'd driven off half asleep and gotten into an accident. 

The three adults tiptoed out of the room, leaving Claire sleeping peacefully in her fortress with her honor guard of teddy bears, sock monkeys, and other such fearsome beasts ready to defend her from bad dreams. 

While Missouri was in the bathroom, Castiel took a warm, flannel bathrobe out of his closet and laid it on Claire's bed so Missouri wouldn't have to sleep in her clothes. Then he joined Dean in the kitchen where the other man was unsurprisingly making tea. He wrapped his arms around Dean from behind and kissed the nape of his neck. "Have I told you lately that I love you?" 

Dean hummed happily, relaxing back against Castiel. "Might've mentioned it. I never get tired of hearing it though." 

They cuddled in silence for a few minutes while the tea steeped. Castiel's lips traveled slowly up and down Dean's neck, leaving a trail of chaste little kisses, and Dean stroked Castiel's arms where they rested snugly around his waist. It wasn't foreplay. They were just soaking up the comfort of each other's presence at the end of a long day. 

Castiel heard the bathroom door open and Missouri's quiet steps in the hall, but she didn't come looking for them, and a moment later he heard Claire's door softly close. 

"Can I ask you something?" Castiel said as Dean gently untangled himself from their embrace so he could add honey to Castiel's tea. 

"Course." 

He moved to see Dean's face. "This morning when we were talking to Max and Aaron, you seemed a little uncomfortable. Why was that?" 

Dean tensed, but only a little, and the animal wariness that always came into his eyes when he thought Castiel was about to get mad at him was far less pronounced than it would have been a month ago. Castiel was glad to see that Dean was growing more confident in their relationship, trusting that even when they disagreed, they could talk things out without it turning into a fight. 

He reached out to rub Dean's back and laid a reassuring kiss on his shoulder, soothing him that little bit more. "Whatever it is, I promise I won't be angry. Did you date one of them or have a one night stand?"  
  
"What?" Dean blinked at him and then laughed. "No. No, babe, it's nothing like that. I just…" He trailed off, biting his lip nervously, then cupped Castiel's cheek, the simple gesture so tender and worshipful that it made Castiel's throat tighten with emotion. "I love you so much. You know that, right?" 

Castiel smiled. "You might have mentioned it." 

"And," Dean took a shaky breath before continuing, "I love Claire too. She's a great kid, and it makes me so happy that you trust me with her." 

Castiel began to see where this was going, but he let Dean keep talking without interruption. 

"I guess I've kind of been avoiding thinking about what that could mean in the long run if… if this keeps working for both of us. And when Max assumed that I was… that Claire was…"

"Ours?" Castiel supplied when Dean seemed unable to decide if he dared to say the word. 

Dean nodded and his shoulders relaxed as though Castiel had lifted a physical burden from him with that single syllable. "Yeah. I guess it kind of hit me all of a sudden that I… I didn't want to correct him. I wanted it to be true. I'm not trying to freak you out here. I know it hasn't been that long, and I'm not asking you to marry me tomorrow, but I… I can't pretend that I don't think about it, and I… I want that someday. With you. With her. When you're ready." 

"There's no such thing as moving too fast if we're on the same page," Castiel said, amazed that he could keep his voice so steady while his heart was trying to jump out of his chest at the confirmation that Dean also wanted this to last forever, wanted them to be a family. "You're right that I'm not ready to get married yet, but I have no problem with you getting attached to Claire in the meantime. Whether you realize it or not, Dean, you've been a father to her for months now, and you've been a good one. Even if we broke up, I wouldn't cut you off from her. We made a deal, remember? Whatever happens between us, we don't let it hurt Claire, and at this point, you disappearing from her life would hurt her. She's already lost one father. I wouldn't take another one away from her just to spite you." 

Dean looked at Castiel with something like awe. "You really think we could make that work?" 

Castiel thought about how much it would hurt to see Dean, watch him play with Claire and make her laugh, but know that Dean wasn't his anymore. Then he thought about telling Claire that Dean was gone and never coming back. "Yes. If we had to. But I really don't want to have to." 

"Me neither." Dean tugged Castiel closer, and Castiel went gratefully into his arms, burying his nose in Dean's shirt and breathing in the smell of the other man, food and sweat and earthy male musk, love and safety and home. 

He remembered the other thing he'd planned to discuss with Dean tonight and reluctantly pulled away a little before he could get too distracted by the way their bodies were pressed together. "On a related subject, I have a favor to ask you." 

Dean held him loosely, not letting him go too far. "Anything, Cas." 

"I've decided to make a will, and with your permission, I'd like to name you Claire's legal guardian if something were to happen to me before she turns eighteen." 

Dean stared at him open mouthed for a moment. "You're… you're serious?" 

"Yes. There's no one I trust more. I know you'd love and protect her like she was your own because you already do." 

Dean still looked utterly stunned, but he finally managed to nod and say, "Yeah. Of course I'd take care of her if… if something happened." 

Relief flooded through Castiel, and he surged forward to capture Dean's lips in a clumsy, uncoordinated kiss, mumbling, "Thank you, thank you." 

Dean kissed him back for only a moment before pulling away, green eyes suddenly wide and fearful. "Wait, wait. What if… what if something happens to both of us? I mean, we're together a lot of the time. If there was a car accident or a fire at the restaurant, the odds that we'd both be there are—"

"Pretty good," Castiel finished for him. He had never considered that. His mind raced through the list of everyone he knew and trusted. Of course Missouri was the first one who sprang to mind, but she was older. If her health suddenly started going downhill, Claire could end up in foster care anyway. 

"What about Anna?" Dean said. "She told me she and her husband always wanted a whole house full of kids. You think they'd be willing to commit to taking Claire in if she needed a place to go?" 

Castiel nodded. "I think they would. Either way, it can't hurt to ask." He leaned into Dean again, exhausted and heartsick just from thinking about this awful scenario. 

Dean held him tightly and rubbed his back. "I think your tea got cold."  
  
Castiel hummed against Dean's neck. "That's all right. I appreciate the thought anyway." 

"Bed?" 

"Mmmhmm. That sounds nice." But he was so warm and comfortable in Dean's arms, and he didn't want to give it up even for the few seconds it would take to walk to the bedroom. 

Dean suddenly ducked down and scooped him up bridal style. Castiel gave an undignified squeak and instinctively wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. Suddenly sleep was the last thing on his mind.

"What?" Dean said teasingly as he began to walk towards the bedroom, only the bulging of his biceps under his shirt showing that this was in any way challenging. 

"This is… incredibly hot," Castiel said hoarsely. 

"Yeah?" Dean smirked. "You like being manhandled?" 

"I like being manhandled by _you_ ," Castiel amended. None of his other partners had ever tried it, but he didn't think he would have liked it if they had. He would have been worried that they'd drop him, or he'd have felt ridiculous being carried around like the helpless damsel in some cheesy romance novel. But with Dean he felt perfectly secure, both in terms of gravity and his masculinity. 

Dean's eyes darkened, and as quickly as he had picked Castiel up, he set him down, backed him up against the nearest wall, and kissed him, hot and wet and dominating. Castiel whimpered into his mouth, digging his fingers into those strong biceps. He felt Dean's hands drop to his ass and then slide down his legs, lifting them up to wrap around Dean's waist, lining their groins up just right. At the first filthy grind of their hips, he bit Dean's lower lip hard enough to draw a muffled groan from the other man. 

That reminded him that they were still in the hallway, and he broke away from the kiss to gasp, "Not… not here, Dean. Claire or Missouri might wake up."

Dean blinked at him for a moment, his lust drunk brain clearly struggling to process words. Dear God, he was beautiful, all flushed, disheveled, and _wanting_ … wanting Castiel and _only_ Castiel. 

"Bedroom," Castiel prompted, impatient to get back to kissing and grinding on each other. 

That got through to Dean, and he put Castiel down again and let himself be dragged into the bedroom. Once the door was shut and locked, Castiel leaned back against it seductively. Dean needed no more encouragement than that. He caged Castiel against the door with his body and breathed in his ear, voice low and rough with want, "Right here?" 

"Yes. Hold me up like you just did out there. Show me how strong you are."  
  
Dean actually growled, and the sound sent desire shooting through Castiel like lightning. "Clothes off first," Dean said. "Want to see you. Want to feel you." 

They stripped each other frantically, and Castiel felt not the least bit self-conscious of his scarred body. The way those green eyes raked hungrily over every inch of him made it abundantly clear that he was beautiful to Dean, scars and all. 

Once they were naked, Dean dropped to his knees and swallowed Castiel down, getting him good and wet. Castiel had to close his eyes lest the sight of those plump, pink lips wrapped around his cock send him over the edge embarrassingly fast. "Jesus Christ, Dean," he moaned, "your fucking mouth." 

Dean chuckled smugly, which made his throat vibrate around the tip of Castiel in a way that put the best sex toys in the world to shame. Fortunately, or maybe a little unfortunately, he pulled off after that, and Castiel didn't get to find out just how hard he could come from that little trick. They would have to experiment with that another time. 

Then his feet were up off the floor for the third time that night, Dean's tongue was thrusting possessively into his mouth, and that salty, musky taste was _him_. He was so absorbed in kissing Dean, he didn't even realize something was missing until Dean pulled away to say, "Uh, could use a hand here, babe." 

He looked down between them where their hard cocks were rubbing together gently but not providing nearly enough stimulation to get them anywhere any time soon. Realizing that Dean needed two hands to keep all one hundred and seventy pounds of Castiel balanced against the door, he quickly wrapped one of his own hands around both of them, keeping the other on Dean's back so he could feel the flex of those sexy muscles. He started with slow, smooth strokes, Dean's saliva and their combined pre-come making his hand glide easily.

Dean groaned with relief and pressed his forehead against Castiel's. "God, that's good. Fuck, baby. Love the way you touch me."  
  
Castiel chuckled and tilted his head to nip at Dean's jaw, stubble tickling the tip of his tongue. "Yeah, you do. You love that I'm a man, and I know exactly what to do with a cock when I've got one in my hand." He thumbed over both their slits, smearing the pre-come from one to the other.  
  
Dean mewled and began rocking his hips, thrusting up into the tunnel of Castiel's fist. The way their cocks dragged together made Castiel shudder and moan. He knew from experience that he couldn't last long when it felt this good, but he didn't care. Anyway, it was probably better if they both finished quickly before Dean's arms got tired. 

"I love that about you too," he continued since Dean was obviously getting off on the dirty talk just as much as everything else. "I love that you're a big, strong man who can pick me up like this. I love your big, calloused hands. I love that you can fuck me into the mattress when I need that, and even when you bottom for me, there is absolutely nothing feminine about you. Watching you come all over my chest while you ride my cock is the hottest, most masculine thing I've ever seen in my life." 

That did it. Dean came hard with an almost surprised gasp of "Cas!"

The hot spurts of fluid landing on his own cock while Dean twitched and spent in his hand sent Castiel over the edge too, and he locked his legs as tight as he could around Dean's waist and let his head fall forward, muffling his moans in Dean's shoulder as waves of indescribable pleasure wracked his body with every pulse. 

As he started to come to his senses, he had a momentary disorienting sensation of falling. He clung on to Dean tighter, but then he heard a rough voice murmuring, "I've got you, babe. Just lay down, and I'll get something to clean you up." He realized that there was a soft mattress at his back now instead of the hard door, and he gratefully sank into the pillows. 

He heard a drawer open and felt the cool dampness of a wipe cleaning the sticky mess off his stomach and groin. Gentle hands massaged his legs too, encouraging the muscles to relax so they wouldn't cramp. There was the plop of the wipe landing in the trashcan, and then the bed dipped as Dean crawled in beside him, pulling the blanket up over both of them. 

"Thank you," he mumbled, rolling over into Dean's chest. 

"Any time," Dean said, kissing the top of his head. "Love you." 

"I love you too." 

Castiel's last thought before he fell asleep was that he could handle anything life threw at him as long as every day ended like this, with him and Dean together in their bed and Claire sleeping peacefully across the hall. He could face anything as long as he had his family. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : NSFW
> 
> *throws smut at you and runs away*

He could tell by the angle and color of the light filtering through the blinds that it was earlier than he usually liked to wake up, but he certainly wasn't going to complain about what had woken him. Namely, the exquisite wet heat of Dean's mouth wrapped around his cock. 

" _Dean_ ," he groaned, his hands coming up to tangle in the other man's hair, holding him still as Castiel started rocking his hips in shallow, gentle thrusts. Dean's eyes flicked up to meet his, and Castiel read the permission in his gaze. He pushed a little deeper the next time, reveling in the feeling of Dean's throat relaxing and opening up for him. Dean's eyelids fluttered, his eyes rolling up in his head as he moaned with unabashed pleasure. That was it for Castiel, and he came embarrassingly fast and hard, unable to even _think_ of letting out a warning. 

Unprepared, Dean gagged a little, and trickles of white escaped his lips to slide down Castiel's cock. Dean chased them with his tongue, lapping them up like they were the last drops of his favorite dessert. The erotic sight wrung another weak twitch from Castiel, and a final spurt landed on Dean's cheek. 

"Come here," Castiel said hoarsely, and when Dean crawled up the bed so they were face to face, he leaned up and licked his own come off Dean's stubble. Dean laughed and turned his head to help Castiel get it all. 

Castiel wormed his hand between their bodies to stroke the very hard cock he could feel pressing into his hip. The idea that Dean was this turned on just from letting Castiel fuck his mouth was… intoxicating. It made Castiel feel sexy and powerful, desired and loved. "God, Dean. You're absolutely perfect for me," he breathed and captured the other man's lips in a searing, tongue-tangling kiss before Dean could argue. 

It only took a dozen or so strokes before Dean was gasping and groaning into Castiel's mouth as he came too, which made Castiel feel better about his own quick orgasm. 

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby," Dean said when he remembered how to speak. 

Castiel laughed and held him close, heedless of the sticky mess sandwiched between them. "Happy Valentine's Day." The lingering post-orgasm high gave him the courage to add, "Hopefully, the first of many we'll celebrate together." 

"Mmm. I like the sound of that," Dean agreed, nestling his head in the curve of Castiel's neck and shoulder with a contented sigh as though he intended to stay there all day. 

Castiel wished he could. He would like nothing more than to spend their first Valentine's Day together right here in their bed, cuddling and talking and making love until they were both too exhausted to go again, but work and parenthood called, so eventually they cleaned up and got dressed. 

Watching Dean take clothes from his drawer in Castiel's dresser almost made up for the fact that he was covering up all that gorgeous, golden, freckled skin. Castiel really wanted to just ask him to officially move in already, but it was probably too soon for that. He knew Dean was enjoying sharing an apartment with Sam after eight years separated by prison bars, so he had offered up space in his closet instead which Dean had happily accepted. 

He tore his eyes away from the play of muscles in Dean's back as the man pulled a shirt over his head and forced himself to pay attention to his own clothes before he put his pants on inside out again. "You have the directions to Claire's school, right?" 

"They're saved in my phone. I'll get her there on time. Promise." 

"It's not that I don't trust you. I do," Castiel hurried to reassure him. "I just—" 

"It's okay, Cas." Dean crossed the room and cradled Castiel's face between his hands, smiling fondly. "You don't have to explain. You're a parent. Worrying is in the job description, but I got this. You go cook for the staff meeting. Claire and I will be just fine." 

He planted a kiss on Castiel's forehead, and Castiel leaned into his chest, allowing himself one more moment of selfish indulgence. 

"So what are you making?" Dean asked as they reluctantly separated. 

Castiel smiled mischievously. "It's a surprise." 

~o0o~

One of the advantages of dating a coworker was that even when they both had to work, they could still spend the day together. For their first Valentine's Day though, Castiel wasn't content with just working in the same kitchen as Dean like every other day, he wanted to find a way to make it special, memorable. When he realized that February fourteenth was a Friday this year, he knew exactly what he could do. Fortunately, Naomi didn't ask why he wanted to cook for the staff meeting when it wasn't his turn, nor did she ask what he was planning to make. 

It always felt a little odd working in the restaurant kitchen without the controlled chaos in the clattering, clanging, and shouting of business hours around him, but once he started rolling out the dough he'd made the day before, slowly coaxing each stiff lump into an elastic circle, he settled into a kind of zen mind space and forgot everything else. Soon he had six pie crusts ready to go. 

Before he started on the filling, he checked his phone which had dinged while his hands were floured. Dean had sent him a picture of Claire standing on the steps of the school and smiling sweetly at the camera, followed by the words, _Safe and sound_. 

Castiel's heart swelled with love, and he texted back, _Thank you_ 💕. 

Almost immediately his phone dinged with Dean's reply, a single kissy face emoji. 😘

He laughed but resisted the urge to continue trading emojis with his boyfriend to see who could be more sickeningly affectionate. Instead he quickly saved the picture of Claire before tucking the phone back in his pocket and returning to his pies. 

In his small kitchen at home, he would have had to bake the pies in batches of two, which would take hours, but with access to multiple industrial ovens he could do them all at the same time. Before long he had six beautiful pies lined up on the cooling rack, curls of steam wafting from the heart shaped holes cut in their perfectly golden top crusts. He was just stepping back to admire his handiwork when a rough voice behind him said, "Oh, Cas, you didn't." 

Castiel spun around, and there was Dean, still in his coat and scarf, nose and cheeks pink with cold, and an expression of utter shock and disbelief on his face. For a moment, Castiel's confidence faltered. "You… you said you liked pie." 

"Yeah. Once. In passing. Months ago. Way back before we even started dating. You remembered that?" 

Castiel shyly looked up at Dean. "I might have also asked Sam about your favorite foods. Are you upset or happy? Because it's very hard for me to tell right now." 

Dean closed the gap between them in two quick strides and pulled Castiel into his arms. "Happy," he murmured, his cold nose pressing into Castiel's cheek. "So fucking happy. This is the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me." 

Castiel's heart broke a little hearing that, and he resolved to do many more romantic things for Dean and show him that none of his previous boyfriends had appreciated him at all, much less as he deserved to be appreciated. For now he contented himself with wrapping his arms around the other man and whispering in his ear, "Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart. I love you so much." 

~o0o~ 

Naomi raised an eyebrow when she saw the pies lined up in the middle of the long table that had been set for the staff meeting. "Dessert for lunch, Castiel?" 

Castiel bit back the sharp retort that was on the tip of his tongue and instead said pleasantly, "Actually, these are meat pies. There are two each of chicken, beef, and venison. Which would you like to try first?" 

Naomi looked momentarily off-balance which gave Castiel a petty, childish satisfaction, but she recovered herself quickly and said, "Ah. Well, in that case, I'll try the chicken." 

To Naomi's obvious surprise and suspicion, Castiel cut and served the pie to her himself before dishing out a slice onto his own plate. As he took his seat beside Dean, Castiel could still feel her eyes on him, but apparently she wasn't suspicious enough to not eat the pie. 

Her eyes widened as she chewed her first bite. "This is delicious, Castiel. Is that rosemary I can taste?"  
  
Castiel beamed. "Yes. Cut fresh this morning from my own rosemary plant at home. It was a gift from Dean." He squeezed Dean's hand. 

Dean blushed. 

Naomi's expression soured a little at this revelation, but she managed to sound almost sincere when she said, "Then thank you, Dean, for your contribution to this lovely meal." 

Dean acknowledged the thanks with a nod, then turned his attention to his own slice of venison pie. "Fuck, Cas, this is amazing," he moaned around a mouthful, and though similar happily noised compliments were now coming from all around the table as everyone dug in, Castiel had eyes and ears only for Dean. 

Dean's tongue darted out to lick a flake of pastry from his lower lip, and Castiel was viscerally reminded of the way that tongue had licked up Castiel's come with equal enjoyment earlier that morning. God, what he wouldn't give to be sitting in Dean's lap right now, feeding him pie and kissing him between each bite.

But that definitely wouldn't be appropriate behavior for a staff meeting, so Castiel mentally shook his head and did his best to ignore his half-hard dick and pay attention to Naomi who was now going over the business of the day. 

"… so this week the lemon sole will be offered with a side of steamed potatoes instead. The McLeods have reserved the private dining room for their twentieth wedding anniversary. They'll be hosting a party of twenty people, themselves included, and they would like to arrange a time to go over the menu with you, Castiel. When would be convenient?" 

Castiel's fork clattered loudly on his plate. On the bright side, that had taken care of his semi more efficiently than a cold shower ever could. "They what?" 

"They would like to go over the menu for the party with you," Naomi repeated blandly as though she didn't know perfectly well that the problem wasn't his hearing. "When is a convenient time for you?" 

_When hell freezes over,_ was what Castiel wanted to say. _When pigs fly. Half past never._ But he was a professional, and unlike letting customers fawn over him when he should be in the kitchen, this actually was part of his job, so he said, "Tell them Monday morning at eleven," and then, because he knew the McLeods and he knew Naomi, he added firmly, "and tell them that I will meet with them _here_. This is non-negotiable." 

"Should I be at this meeting?" Dean asked, directing the question to Castiel. 

"I don't think that's necessary," Naomi started to say, but Castiel spoke over her. 

"Yes, actually. I would value your input." He looked at Naomi, silently daring her to make an issue of it. 

She held up her hands, conceding the decision to him. "Very well. If you think it's necessary. Gabe, you'll draw up a list of who will wait on the private party and have it on my desk by Tuesday night." 

They moved on to other business, but Castiel's mood had soured. He no longer had any appetite for the pie he had labored over, so he slid the rest of his slice onto Dean's plate with a slightly forced smile. 

Dean gave him a worried look. 

_Later_ , Castiel mouthed. This was something they should discuss in private, not with Naomi glaring at them like an irate schoolteacher who has caught her students whispering in class. 

Dean nodded and squeezed Castiel's leg under the table, his hand a reassuring touch more than a sensual one.

With Dean's warm, solid, grounding presence beside him, Castiel managed to get through the rest of the meeting without arguing with Naomi. The pies were a definite success, and by the time the meeting wound down all six pans held nothing but crumbs. Dean had put away three pieces himself, one of each kind of course, plus the rest of Castiel's piece.

As soon as the business portion of the meeting was concluded, Naomi excused herself, stating that she had an appointment to get to. Everyone else lingered around the table to chat, and the mood became decidedly more relaxed once Naomi had driven off. 

"Damn, that was good," Dean said, stretching luxuriously and tilting the chair back slightly. "I think I'm gonna have to keep you, Cas." 

"Is that so?" Castiel chuckled. His eyes flickered down to the strip of exposed skin where Dean's shirt had ridden up. His freckled belly was definitely a little more prominent than usual, and Castiel longed to push his face into that softness, kiss over the warm flesh and revel in the fact that _he_ was the reason Dean was happy and well fed. He had never had a feeder kink before, but when it came to Dean, nothing surprised him anymo—

His brain stuttered to a stop as he caught a flash of something red and… lacey under the waistband of Dean's jeans right before the other man leaned forward, hiding the tantalizing glimpse from view. 

"Oh, yeah," Dean said with a smirk, leaning in close to Castiel and lowering his voice. "A man who can bake a good pie _and_ rock my world in the sack? I'd have to be a born idiot to let you get away… What? Why are you looking at me like that?" 

Castiel had no idea what his face looked like right now, but he knew Dean well enough to know that he'd better set his boyfriend's mind at ease about the reception of his little surprise as quickly as possible. He licked his dry lips and leaned even closer, his lips brushing the shell of Dean's ear before whispering, "Dean Winchester, are you wearing red panties? Red… lace," Dean's breath hitched as Castiel's tongue flicked his ear on the _l_ , "panties?" 

Dean tensed and glanced nervously down the table as though someone might have overheard, but everyone else was absorbed in their own conversations, most of them bemoaning the fact that they had to work on Valentine's Day. "Shit," Dean whispered, his eyes darting back to Castiel and a flush rising to color his cheeks. "You weren't, uh… you weren't supposed to see them yet. It was gonna be a surprise for after work." 

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "You were going to wear them all night without telling me?" 

"Didn't want you to be distracted, chef." The cocky smirk was back in full force. 

"Well, I'd say that ship has sailed." Castiel reached under the table and dipped two fingers into Dean's waistband until he could feel the rough texture of the lace, a beautiful contrast to Dean's smooth skin. "Will you show me now?"

Dean's eyes widened. "Here?" 

"No, obviously not here. In the bathroom?"  
  
"Oh." 

"You don't have to if you're not comfortable." 

"No. I, um… I want to. You want to go first and I'll follow in a couple minutes or…" 

Castiel snorted. "This isn't high school, Dean. I don't think we need to bother with all that. We wouldn't fool anyone anyway." He stood up, grabbed Dean's hand, and practically dragged him — not that Dean resisted at all — back towards the kitchen. Some laughter and a wolf whistle (probably Gabe) followed them, but Castiel didn't even look back.

The staff washroom was a fairly well insulated single occupancy room in the back of the building, so as soon as Castiel flipped the lock, they had total privacy. He pushed Dean against the door and kissed him, hard and hungry, while fumbling blindly with the other man's belt. Dean's mouth tasted like buttery pastry and rosemary, the very same rosemary he had given Castiel instead of flowers on their first date. 

Dean was clearly on board with the pace Castiel was setting. Castiel could feel how hard he was already, but once he succeeded in getting the belt unbuckled, Castiel decided to slow things down. He wanted to savor this next part. After all, when you're presented with a rare delicacy to taste for the first time, you don't just wolf it down, no matter how hungry you are. You roll it around on your tongue, try to identify each flavor, and imprint the moment in your memory with as much detail as you can. 

He sank to his knees on the hard tile floor and looked up at Dean, his hands hovering over the other man's fly, waiting for Dean's nod of permission before popping the button and torturously slowly dragging down the zipper. Dean's lust-dark eyes were fixed on Castiel's face as Castiel eased the jeans down off his hips to completely reveal the beautiful panties. 

They were made for a man. Even with Dean almost fully hard, they cradled his cock and balls comfortably. The cut of them was deliberately designed to not just accommodate, but to complement and accentuate the shape and size of an erection. Whoever had designed them was a true artist who knew how to balance functionality and beauty without sacrificing either. 

"Oh, Dean," Castiel murmured, pressing a tender kiss to his lover's stomach right above the red lace. "You're gorgeous. How did I get so lucky?" 

Dean laughed. "Pretty sure I'm the lucky one in this relationship." 

"Then you must not have looked in a mirror when you put these on." 

"I didn't actually." 

Castiel looked up in surprise. 

Dean shrugged. "I was afraid I'd look ridiculous and chicken out." 

"You've never done this before," Castiel breathed. 

It wasn't a question, but Dean shook his head anyway. "I was always kind of curious about it, but I felt silly trying it by myself, and I never had anyone I…" 

He didn't finish the thought, but Castiel didn't need him to. He knew exactly what Dean was trying to say. He'd never had a partner he trusted like he trusted Castiel, someone he was willing to make himself this vulnerable for because he knew they would never laugh at him or make him ashamed. 

"You're saying," Castiel swallowed hard, "that I'm the only man, the only _person_ , who has ever had the privilege of seeing you like this?" 

Dean nodded. 

Castiel buried his face in Dean's stomach with a groan. "Christ, Dean, do you have any idea how hot that is?" 

Dean gave a shaky laugh and threaded his fingers through Castiel's hair. "There's that possessive streak again, Cas." 

He squeaked in surprise as Castiel bit him sharply on the hip, and Castiel felt the lace beneath his cheek twitch as Dean's cock jumped. "You love it," he purred smugly and gently soothed the bite with his tongue. 

"Yeah," Dean agreed breathlessly. "Fuck, do that again." 

Castiel was happy to oblige, sucking three impressive hickeys onto Dean's left hip before moving over to give the other side the same treatment. Dean's fingers curled tighter in Castiel's hair, tugging and scratching at his scalp, and Castiel had to palm his own neglected cock through his pants. The bathroom echoed with moaned curses and praise, and anyone passing the door would surely hear Dean's litany of, "Fuck, Cas. Yeah, just like that. Fuck, I love you," but Castiel didn't care if the whole world heard. Hell, he'd shout it from the rooftops. _Dean Winchester loves me. Dean Winchester says I'm the best he's ever had._

There was a cleverly concealed slit in the front that Castiel could pull Dean's cock through without having to take the panties off. Castiel was seriously considering tracking down the designer and sending them a thank you card, and perhaps a nice fruit basket. Dean's head hit the door with a thunk as Castiel swallowed him down to the root, the tip of his nose brushing lace. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, Cas, fuck, Cas." Those seemed to be the only two words in Dean's vocabulary at the moment. 

Castiel's knees were starting to hurt, but the pain was distant and mostly drowned out by overwhelming pleasure and powerful need. He fumbled his own cock out of his pants and began absently stroking it while he continued bobbing up and down on Dean's, but coordinating the two while also trying to keep Dean's hips still with one hand proved too complicated. He pulled off and looked up at Dean. "Fuck my mouth," he commanded hoarsely. 

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He wound his other hand into Castiel's hair as well and slid back between his parted lips with a strangled groan. Yes, that was much better. Castiel knelt there, his head tipped back to make a straight line from his mouth to his throat, and let Dean take his pleasure. His own hand flying up and down his painfully hard cock was almost an afterthought. He reached his other hand around to Dean's ass and pressed a finger up between his cheeks, rubbing the lace against his entrance. 

Dean cried out and his cock swelled a little more, stretching Castiel's lips and filling his mouth with pulses of warm, salty come. Castiel swallowed it even as his own orgasm surged through him and he spilled on the floor between Dean's feet. 

Dean slumped back against the door when it was over, his glassy-eyed expression pure bliss as he gazed down at Castiel. His trembling hands continued to pet gently through Castiel's hair. Castiel tucked Dean's softening cock back into the panties and pulled up his jeans for him, then fixed his own clothes. When he tried to stand up, he groaned, and not with ecstasy this time. Dean chuckled and took his hands to help him to his feet. 

"Thank you," Castiel said, then coughed as the sound grated in his abused throat. Fuck, he was gonna be sore all night, but it was so worth it. Grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser, he quickly wiped up the mess on the floor and tossed it in the trash before stepping into Dean's arms for a post-coital cuddle. "I'm well past the age when I could spend a long time on my knees without consequences." 

"You still look damn good down there though," Dean teased, cupping his jaw and pulling him in for a kiss. He moaned when he tasted himself in Castiel's mouth just as Castiel had that morning. "So I guess I should keep the panties," he said when they came up for air. Castiel was delighted to see that Dean was grinning, the vulnerable look from before had been completely swept away. 

"Definitely. Maybe buy a few more in different colors. A nice emerald green to bring out your eyes perhaps."

"I'll show you the website," Dean laughed. "You can pick out which ones you think would look good on me." 

"Mmm. Okay." 

They made out lazily against the door for a few more minutes, and Castiel noticed that though the kisses were far from chaste, Dean was being deliberately gentle on Castiel's swollen lips, never using teeth or too much pressure. 

"Cas, can I ask you something?" Dean said the next time they took a breather.

"Mmmhmm," Castiel mumbled, laying his head on Dean's shoulder and closing his eyes as post-orgasm drowsiness began to creep up on him. 

"What's the deal with the McLeods? I mean, I gather that you really don't like them, but you've never explained why. Do they complain a lot?" 

"No, it's quite the opposite. They love everything I make. They've offered me a job as their personal chef multiple times." 

He could hear Dean's confused frown when the man said, "So why—" 

"I just don't like them. They're creepy and flirty, constantly touching me, and coming on to me. If the way they act in public is any indication, I really don't ever want to be alone with them." 

He felt Dean tense a little in his arms. "That's why you wanted the meeting to be here and to have me there." 

"Yes." 

Dean was quiet for a moment, his hand moving soothingly up and down Castiel's spine. Finally he said, "Cas, what you're describing… You realize it sounds like sexual harassment."

"Except they've never crossed any legal boundaries that would allow me to make a case, and even if they did, I highly doubt Naomi would take my side. They're her most loyal and lucrative customers, after all." 

"Because of _you_ by the sound of it. Hell, your food is the main reason _anyone_ comes to her snooty, overpriced restaurant. If she doesn't think your safety is worth losing a couple of asshole customers over, then believe me, there are dozens of restaurants in this city that would jump at the chance to hire _the_ Castiel Novak to run their kitchen, and they would treat you a hell of a lot better than she does." 

About halfway through this little speech, Castiel had lifted his head to look at Dean, and he was immediately mesmerized by the fire in those green eyes. When Dean had finished making his point, Castiel kissed him softly on the lips. "I love you," he murmured, "and I promise that if the McLeods or anyone else ever cross a line, I won't let Naomi bully me into letting it slide. I will tell you before I even bothered discussing it with her, and we will decide how to handle it together." 

Dean looked mollified, but his arms were still wrapped tightly around Castiel's waist, and he was radiating protectiveness. "I just hate the thought of anyone making you uncomfortable," he said quietly, pressing their foreheads together, "even if it's within legal boundaries."

 _God, I don't deserve this man,_ Castiel thought as he kissed Dean again, _but I'm keeping him anyway. As long as I can get away with it. As long as I possibly can._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks around the corner* 
> 
> So now that I have appeased you with smut and pie, you forgive me for the long wait, yes? Good because you're probably in for another one. This story has not been and will not be abandoned, but I want to finish my other WIP, "Home For Christmas", first since that one was written for a gift exchange and is already a couple months late for the posting deadline. As soon as that's finished, I will be coming back to this. Pinky promise. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love. Just sayin'. And as always I am looking for volunteers to draw pretty pictures to accompany this story. If you're interested let me know.


End file.
